


The Unborn Prince

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Castiel/Other - Freeform, Consensual Underage Sex, Doctor Sam, F/M, Infant Death, Jack/Dean - Freeform, King Castiel, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Minor Character Death, Modern Royalty, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Past Underage Sex, Sam/Claire, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-02-13 23:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12994797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: King Castiel and his wife have tried for years to have a child, but finally they have accepted the fact that things aren't going to happen in a normal fashion. So, with the help of a few loyal servants, they plan to find two perfect surrogates (thus raising the chances of a healthy heir), and put on the perfect rouse, leaving the kingdom none the wiser as to how their newest royal came to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is interested in the world building of this particular universe, I've got a little guide over on [my google drive.](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TJFtkvPR3mVoNzyyRkxN_ZGa1fzIQBq0cqM-T_QAXgE/edit?usp=sharing) Complete with pictures. I had to really lay everything out for myself if I was going to attempt a royalty fic -- and I'm hoping this'll be a long one. That being said, if you do read the above file, realize that most of it is just an author babbling so she can work things out for herself. Nothing is set in stone.

There was a saying: “what’s born in the castle, stays in the castle.” It was a saying that for a lot of normal people would mean absolutely nothing, but for Dean Winchester… it ruled his life. His mother and father were both castle dwellers (or, well, they lived in the _vicinity_ ), and thanks to the way they appeased the king and grew the family name, once Dean and his younger brother were of age, they were both given rightful jobs on castle grounds, rather than being sent to live in the city.

Dean, of course, hit rightful age at the same time that his father fell ill, which meant that his job was all but a given; he began learning from the other mechanics in the large garage that housed the royal family’s fleet of cars, and when his father died a year later, his eventual role was set in stone.

Sam, the lucky buck, showed a propensity for math and science while in school, and was taught at the local university, before being brought back to the castle to serve as one of the doctors on staff in the large building. The castle’s ‘hospital’ took up three whole floors in the east wing, allowing for all staff members to have their own suite of rooms there on site. Once Sam moved into the large brick building, Dean hardly ever saw him.

It was probably for the better. 

Since his mother had retired from her job on the castle cleaning staff and moved to one of the southern cities in Pacifica — seeking out a calm that couldn’t be found there in the capital — Dean focused almost all of his attention on his work. He worked something close to eighty hours a week, before he’d go back to the small room in the apartment he shared with five other men (one other mechanic, two repairmen, and two groundskeepers). It was a daily grind that showed no sign of looking up. Ever.

“Hey, ‘mega.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, halfway through making himself a sandwich in the apartment’s small kitchen, when his newest roommate Luke stepped into the space. Fifty years ago, under the rule of King Charles, it had made a difference whether or not a person was born alpha, beta, or omega, but in the late 60’s, a new law was passed to prevent discrimination based on secondary sex. Which is how Dean, as a rare male omega, was still allowed to be a mechanic, rather than being forced into a less strenuous position. His secondary gender and sexual organs had absolutely _no_ effect on the type of person he was; hell, he didn’t even have heats thanks to the suppressants he was allowed to take.

Which is why it was so frustrating to come into contact with someone like Luke — who still lived in the past and wanted to judge people based on what they were, rather than who they were. “ _Luke_ ,” he replied, voice stiff and void of emotions. He knew Luke’s type, the few times that he ventured down to the city for a rare night off, he was always surrounded by posturing alphas just waiting for him to cause a scene.

Not him. Not Dean Winchester.

Luke put his hands on the counter and used his arms to block in Dean’s body, allowing him to press right up against Dean’s backside. There was a moment of deep breathing and the feeling of air passing over his neck which told Dean that the other man was fucking _scenting_ him, something that was not allowed in proper company, before Luke growled, “You’d look so much prettier hanging off of my cock, omega. Why do you fight?”

He shoved back, landing an elbow in Luke’s side and giving himself enough room to slip away thanks to the way the other man moved to hold the spot he’d hit. Instead of giving Luke a reply, he carried his breakfast quickly out of the room and back down the hallway to his bedroom, ignoring the alpha’s laughter as it followed him. The shitty thing was, he thought as he closed and locked his bedroom door, that Luke wasn’t a half bad looking dude, and if he wasn’t such an alpha dick, Dean might consider fucking him. 

Thankfully, relationships amongst the castle workers were a bitch and a half. If someone happened to find their perfect mate and wanted to marry and live with the other person, possibly start a family, they had to get _approval_ for the relationship — from four different people. First you had to ask your commander, whomever was in charge of the department where you worked, he had to sign a paper, as well as your potential partner’s commanding officer. From there, paper in hand with both signatures, you had to get approval from the head of household — the person in charge of all castle staff members. If the head of household approved the courtship, it was finally sent to the king’s desk… where, because it was such a lowly request, it could take up to _twelve months_ for the king to actually get around to signing the damn thing!

If the couple actually lived within castle walls, things could be expedited much quicker. But for the people like Dean who lived in the surrounding buildings and never even _saw_ the royal family, it was damn near impossible.

So it was common to find people sleeping with other workers, hell… some even had boyfriends and girlfriends down in the city that they hardly saw… but it was not very common to happen upon married couples in the barracks.

Which is why it was so much easier to just focus on his work and forget about things like _relationships_. Even sex. He had a couple of good alpha friends that he would go to if he ever had the overwhelming need to get fucked, but for the most part he kept to himself.

And ignored dicks like Luke.

* * *

Sam was not a big fan of Monday mornings. For most people it would be because it was the start of the work week and the journey back to reality — but Sam loved his job and never felt bothered by having to go back to work after a weekend.

No, he hated Monday mornings because his first meeting of the week was always a quick check-in with the royal family. It was a job that usually fell on the shoulders of the lead physician, but since his boss hated ‘house calls’, he had found some way around the rules and designated Sam as the royal doctor.

He took the elevator to the top floor of the large castle, and then carried his med-bag with him as he walked the long corridor to where guest reception area was. He checked in with the security staff, smiled at the head of household, and was escorted to the breakfast room, where King Castiel and Queen Madelyn sat eating breakfast and making very little small talk.

“Your majesties,” the servant of the day spoke, gaining the king and queen’s attention. “Doctor Samuel has arrived.”

King Castiel smiled and dismissed the servant, before motioning to the empty chair to his right. “Samuel, have you eaten?”

“Yes, your highness.” He sat in the offered chair and smiled at the queen, before focusing his attention on the king. Since Sam visited once a week, the need for actual _check-ups_ was not really necessary. Rather, he was mostly there in case Castiel or Madelyn had any medical matters they needed to discuss or wanted advice on. He also monitored the queen’s heat cycle and the king’s rut schedule, to make sure everything was running smoothly _down there._

It had been three weeks since the couple’s cycles had been completed. Which meant that it was a fine time to discuss—

“The answer is no, Sam,” Madelyn mused from across the table. “I have had no signs.”

Sam dropped his head for a moment, trying to school his features so that he didn’t show his disappointment.

Three years. He had been working with the king and queen for three years, dozens upon dozens of cycles, and still nothing. They had tried medicines, had even contacted an herbalist and tried _herbs_ , but the results were always the same.

The queen, bless her soul, had a low egg count that made the chances of insemination less than one percent. The medicines — all attempting to raise her egg count — seemed to be failing. Which left them with very few options. 

He turned his attention to the king. “What are we to do?”

Since he was the only physician that regularly visited the king and queen, he was the only other person with knowledge of how many times they had tried to get pregnant. If others knew, it would probably cause widespread panic throughout the city, hell, maybe even the whole kingdom. There had never been a king or queen of Pacifica that wasn’t directly descended from King Augustus — which meant that Castiel _had_ to have a child, or his crazy cousin would probably step back into the picture and try to take over.

There had been rumors whispered in the dark for most of Sam’s life — rumors that the current lineage was destined to fail thanks to the fact that each generation, only one new heir was added. Hell, even the crazy cousin that no one dared to mention… was a fifth or sixth cousin with hardly any real connection to the throne.

King Castiel finished his breakfast, before taking a long sip of water and focusing his attention on Sam once the glass was placed carefully back on the table. “Maddy and I have come up with a plan, Samuel. One that will require your help, as well as Raphael’s.”

Raphael was the head of security — a stern man that Sam didn’t ever dare to look directly in the eye.

Castiel continued, “This plan will require complete secrecy with penalty of death looming, shall anyone let anything slip.”

_Shit._

“Sir?”

“Raphael is starting to compile a list of omegas on castle grounds. From there, he’ll begin to sort through ones whose appearance matches that of the queen.” Castiel held Sam’s eyes with a sharp stare. “We will find a surrogate. You will help with coordinating exams to make sure the omega is fertile, then initiate the insemination process and monitor the omega throughout the pregnancy. Does that sound doable?”

Sam thought for a moment, before nodding his head. “Might I make one suggestion?” Castiel nodded, motioning for him to continue. “Come up with two candidates that are perfect, and we will work through the insemination process with both. That way, odds are in our favor as far as issues go with the pregnancy — the possibility of miscarriage is less daunting.”

“Smart,” Madelyn spoke from across the table. “And my head mistress will work with me to make sure that once the surrogates are showing, I’ll look just as pregnant. If the process is done properly, no one will ever suspect a thing.”

Castiel looked to his wife, reaching out a hand to grasp her’s and smiling softly, “If both pregnancies take… we could have _twins_ , my love.”

“Oh!” She seemed surprised to realize that idea, but then laughed happily and nodded her head. “What a blessing.”

“One more thing, your majesties.” Sam bit at his bottom lip, thinking for a moment before looking up at them, “Once we’ve started to process, I would suggest having the queen go on suppressants. It wouldn’t do to have the surrogacies in progress and then your highness getting pregnant while looking six months along…”

“Perfectly reasonable,” the King responded. “And we’ll work with Raphael to have nearby quarters made up for the surrogates once they are located. The less time the spend out and about raising eyebrows, the better.”

“Very good.” Sam stood, picking up his bag and smiling at the two. “Anything else?”

Castiel shook his head, but Madelyn caught her husband’s hand and stared up at Sam. “Sam… you said before that… this can all be done _artificially_ , correct?”

He didn’t understand for a moment, before he watched the queen look quickly to her husband and then back at Sam. Suddenly he got it, and he nodded his head at her worries. “Of course, ma’am. The science department has all but perfected the art of artificial insemination. The King will simply provide a donation on the day of, and from there we will handle everything.”

“Perfect,” Castiel mused. “If need be, we can tell curious folks that we are moving forward with test subjects to make sure the process is perfected. It’s a great explanation as to why the two surrogates will be receiving such levels of attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Sam,” the Queen spoke. He gave another nod, before accepting the dismissal from the king and stepping out of the dining room.

As he carried his bag back the way he had came, he went over in his mind the people that he knew that would fit the requirements needed for a perfect surrogate. Unfortunately, since most of his time was spent in the hospital ward, the only faces that he could place were those of other doctors and nurses — most of which wouldn’t fit the bill.

By the time he got back to the ward, his attention was stolen but a few surgeries that the main doctor needed assistance with, and before he knew it, he was heading up to his apartment and hadn’t thought of the royal surrogate all day. As he stepped inside of the one bedroom apartment, he smiled at the smell of a freshly cooked dinner. Moving into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around the small blonde omega that he had sworn his life to, and kissed along her neck. “Hello, love.”

She looked up at him, eyes twinkling, “Sammy. How was work?”

“Busy.” His hands moved down to the hem of her shirt, easily ducking beneath the fabric so he could brush one large hand along the small bump growing there. “How is our little bean?”

“Wiggly like a butterfly.” She kissed his jaw, before slapping playfully at his chest. “Go wash up, you smell like chemicals.”

“Yes, dear.” He leaned down, capturing one true kiss on her lips, before finally pulling away. “Love you.”

“Love you too, moose. Now hurry, dinner's almost ready.”

“Yes, my queen.” 

“I’m going to smack you for that later,” Claire called after him, but she was laughing, nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *sends chapter to a friend to look it over*  
> Also, me: *too excited to post to wait for friend to send it back*
> 
> Whoops?

It was nearing the end of the week when they got the notice. Some kind of influenza was circulating through the castle grounds and because of such, they were doing mandatory exams of all workers. It was something that they were used to — it happened once or twice a year, at least — so there was a routine for wrapping up work for the day and making sure everyone was ready to head over to the hospital ward at the same time. 

Ironically, it was the one time a year that Dean was guaranteed to get to see his brother.

Usually.

Unless something serious was going on and Sam wasn’t one of the examining doctors.

Dean sighed, ducking his head and ignoring his thoughts as he followed along behind the other mechanics, towards the east wing entrance of the castle. 

Sometimes he laid awake at night wondering why he was so torn up over the fact that his brother didn’t really seem to love him. Their childhood had been mostly normal — Dean struggled with schooling and Sam got all of the attention as a near-genius, but they didn’t _hate_ each other or anything — and it was sometime after Dean moved into the worker apartments at sixteen that things started to change. A large crevice had formed between a relationship that was honestly not ever really the best. Why did that matter so much? 

The other workers would sometimes discuss their own families, and Dean could distinctly remember the time that Randy was talking about his brother — a guard out on the border — who he hadn’t seen or heard from in several years. It was spoken so nonchalantly that Dean had to hide his own surprise. _Years_ without seeing or hearing from a sibling? But then everyone in the room started sharing similar stories. Joe only saw his brother at Christmas (“Thank God!”); Karen had a sister she hated, so she avoided the woman like the plague.

In the end, it was Dean who was the oddball in the room, because his brother lived close enough to see whenever he wanted, and they could hold a conversation for more than five minutes without wanting to throttle each other. 

So why did Dean feel so alone in his universe?

* * *

After about an hour of exams, everyone from the grounds were gathered in a large waiting hall. Dean sat in the back of the room and watched as his brother stepped in and moved up to where a microphone sat. “If I call your name, we need you to stay for a secondary exam,” Sam spoke, “otherwise, you’re dismissed back to your previous duties.” He began rattling off a list of names, and Dean was already focused on how he was going to spend the rest of his day in the shop, when he heard Sam call out, “Dean Winchester.”

_Huh._ As everyone started filing out of the room, minus the ones whose name had been called, Dean realized that none of the other garage workers were left behind. In fact… it was all women sitting around the room, except for him. 

Sam stepped down from the podium, once it was only the ten or so of them left. “Nurse Erin is going to lead you back to the exam rooms, do a quick vitals check, and then I’ll be in momentarily with each of you, okay? If you need water or a snack, please let Erin know.”

Dean let the women walk out first, and followed along at the end of the line. From the way it sounded, most of them were castle workers, not folks from the grounds like him. And he didn’t want to be genderist, but he was pretty sure his nose wasn’t deceiving him and _all_ of them were omega. 

If that was true… _fuck._ He slapped a hand to his head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He _hated_ his yearly ‘check-ups’ that were required if he wanted to stay on suppressants. Doctors were fine, but speculums made his stomach twist with fucking _anxiety_. If they were all omegas, odds were they were there for some kind of reproductive system exam, which fucking sucked on so many levels.

_If they try putting that damn metal contraption near me I’m going to scream—_

“Right here, Mr. Winchester,” the nurse announced, motioning him towards a room. He looked around, only to realize that everyone else had already trailed off into their own private suites. 

_Fuck it all._

Once he was in the room, the nurse handed him a very unflattering (ass in the breeze) gown. “If you could take off all of your clothes and put this on, I’ll be right back in to check your vitals.”

He held the gown for a moment, before looking up and catching her right as she was about to close the door. “Hey, uh, can I get some water? Maybe an apple? This meeting was called right before lunch…”

“Sure. I’ll bring it back in with me.” With that, she closed the door and Dean was left alone.

“Stupid fucking omega body,” he mumbled to himself, throwing the gown on the bed before beginning to strip out of his clothes. 

Once he was wearing nothing but the flimsy gown and sitting his bare asscheeks on the crinkly paper covering the bed, he had an even _scarier_ thought than those surrounding the damn metal-device-from-hell…

Sam had seemed to be in charge of most of what had gone on all day. He’d been front and center during earlier exams, working as the only doctor with a slew of nurses, and then he’d announced the secondary exam.

He was _not_ , no way, uh-uh, never in his _life_ , going to let his little brother give him a fucking womb exam.

There was a knock on the door and when he mumbled a ‘come in’, the door opened and Sam appeared, followed by another doctor. Sam gave Dean the briefest of smiles, before motioning to the other man, “This is Dr. Smith, he’s going to do your exam, to limit embarrassment on both our parts. Once he’s done, I’ll be back in with results to chat, okay, Dean?”

Dean nodded, thankful that his brother had realized the same thing he had about the awkwardness that could have arisen. Sam left the room, and without hesitation Dr. Smith got down to business. He must be new, because he seemed young and Dean couldn’t say he’d seen the man before. He also _sucked_ at bedside manner. He gave Dean no warning at all before he was inserting the cold metal of the speculum, and Dean didn’t feel bad for letting out a very unmanly squeak at the first feeling of the device.

The doctor was most of the way through the exam, when the nurse finally walked back in, holding an apple and a bottle of water. _Should have asked for Xanax,_ Dean thought to himself.

He focused on eating his apple as the nurse and doctor talked back and forth through the rest of the exam. By the time everything was done, he had finished his food and happily sat back up completely when the doctor said he could. He tossed the apple core into the trash and drank half of the water bottle, watching as the doctor and nurse left the room without saying much else. 

Since the ‘exam’ part was done, Dean reached over for his underwear and pulled them on under the gown he was wearing. To heck with the doctors and shit… they had done their looking, so he was going to save some of his dignity before his brother got back in the room.

In the end, it took over an hour before Sam finally stepped back inside, and Dean was happy that he hadn’t spent the time resting uncomfortably with his balls to the wind. In fact, when Sam closed the door behind himself and sat down on the doctor’s stool, he actually motioned towards Dean’s clothing sitting on the nearby chair. “You can get dressed, if you want.” 

Dean nodded, hopping down off of the table and stripping off the crappy hospital gown, before putting his regular clothes back on. Sam waited until he was seated and dressed, before looking at his tablet computer, and then back to Dean. “How many months are you away from a mandatory leave?”

To keep spirits up around the castle grounds, everyone was allowed a two week vacation once a year — something they could use all at once, or spread out over the following year, like Dean usually did. The previous year he had spent two separate weeks down with his mother, twiddling his thumbs and missing work.

He closed his eyes for a moment, calculating how long he had before he’d have to suffer through that again. “Something just shy of nine months? Hasn’t been that long since I went down to ma’s.”

Sam nodded with a smile. “I just earned mine, but I’m saving it. Did I tell you Claire is expecting?”

Dean tried to snort back an ironic laugh, last he heard, Sam was just starting to date the girl — he had no idea they’d even moved forward with getting commitment approval. “Congrats. I always wanted to be an uncle.” There was an awkward pause, as Dean contemplated how far apart they’d grown, and Sam smiled… probably thinking about his girl and his kid. After a few short moments of silence, Dean finally asked, “So… am I dying, or what?”

“Actually, no.” Sam focused back on his tablet. “You’ve actually been chosen to be a part of a new experimental study that our science team is running. Dr. Smith, from earlier? It’s one of his experiments.”

_Huh?_ “I thought there was a flu bug—”

“We’re trying to keep everything on the downlow at this point. We’ve got some issues with outsiders in the city trying to steal the advancements, so everything is on a need to know basis. The ‘flu’ was used so that we could get potential candidates in for exams. From there, we’ve narrowed the field down to the best available choices.”

He did not want to be a labrat. He’d always hated science and could specifically remember the day they were supposed to dissect rats. He had hid his in the pocket of his jacket and set the thing loose when the day was over. He failed the assignment, but at least the damn little critter got to live another day… “How many choices do you have to choose from? Because I’m really guessing something got read wrong. I’m not the best option for anything.”

“It’s you and one other candidate. You’ll both be moving forward with the experiment.” Sam forced a smile and continued, “King’s decree.”

_Of fucking course it was._ Meaning he had no option. Do or die. Well… not _die_ , exactly, but he’d lose his job, his home, and be sent to the city with nothing.

“What exactly am I going to be doing?”

Sam’s eyes were back on the tablet, like he was avoiding looking at Dean as he began to explain. “They’re working on artificial insemination, to help with low fertility rates. Essentially they’re wanting to see if they can take donor sperm and inseminate an egg without the two subjects needing to actually be _intimate._ ”

“Wait! Wait a minute!” Dean stood, looking at his brother like he’d lost his mind. “Are you fucking telling me that the king wants me to get pregnant? No. No. This is not— no. I’m on suppressants. I’m not fucking father material, Sam.” Which was a bunch of bullshit, but when he dreamed of one day having a _child_ it was when he had found a real mate. Not when some fucking scientist had implanted semen and… NO. That wasn’t going to happen because mates were few and far between and Dean had accepted he’d never get to that point from his current position.

“Listen, Dean, the child won’t be _yours._ The kid will be given immediately to an adoptive family upon birth. You won’t even see it or know it!”

“This is so fucked up.”

“You’re the best candidate we have. And on top of everything else, the king is offering a doubling of every participants pay, as well as an automatic castle job for any candidate from the grounds.”

Dean pouted. The king was essentially buying wombs from eligible candidates. Fucking bullshit. “They’re not going to accept me at some castle job. And I’d rather work on cars than be stuck cleaning sheets like mom did—”

“Driver, Dean,” Sam replied.

It made him stop and look up in surprise. “What?”

“You’d be on administrative duties during the pregnancy, but after you’d be promoted to driver. One of them is retiring and when it was found that one of the candidate’s was a mechanic, that was one of the top job options. The other is security, which I know you would probably fucking hate.”

_Driver._ He had seen the drivers — of course he had — and had always dreamed about the position. They were a castle job, but spent most of their time ferrying the higher-ups around Pacifica and the city. They got the outdoor job, and the indoor lifestyle. Not to mention the fact that they got to drive all of the pretty cars that Dean spent his every waking minute perfecting.

“Nine months on a desk and then guaranteed driver?” he asked, hands itching against his pant leg as he sat back down. It didn’t matter how many promotions you got as a mechanic — driver jobs were few and far between, and usually went to security staff, before mechanical.

“A year on a desk. You’d start immediately, but be working a reduced schedule to allow for medical appointments and procedures. The extra months are to allow for a second round, in case the insemination doesn’t happen in the first go.”

“And the people that will take the baby…” He frowned, surprised that he cared about the following… “Will they be good people?”

Sam smiled and nodded his head. “Only the best.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Dean looked down at his hands, wondering if he was actually considering going through with the whole thing. He didn’t really care about the money, but the opportunity to be a driver was one that he wasn’t sure he could ever pass up on… Plus? He’d get a better fucking apartment. Better roommates. Maybe even _no_ roommates.

“Okay, I’m in.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse saw ONE comment asking about posting speed and went 'ahahahahahahah you wanted to update that? not happening soon'. So this chapter was like pulling teeth, but IT IS HERE.

Dean had never realized it for some reason, but when a person moved into the castle — there was actually a group whose _job_ it was to move things for the person. So the day after the exams, while he waited in a different hospital room for his ovulation schedule to get worked out, a group of three or four people were packing up his room in the worker apartments and moving things to the castle. When he left the hospital, carrying a new prescription bottle that was supposed to help work his suppressants out of his system over the next week, a house assistant lead him through the maze of castle hallways until they got to the opulent main entrance. 

The girl that was guiding him along had barely said a word beyond ‘this way’ or ‘this door’, and remained mute as she moved to the large bank of gold plated elevator doors and pushed the button on the far left. It was the farthest into the castle that Dean had ever been, and he frowned as he realized each elevator had a different list of floor numbers above it. “They go to different places?”

“Hmm?” The girl looked over at him, saw him motioning to the elevator numbers, and nodded her head. “Yes. Certain levels of clearance are able to reach higher in the castle than other levels. Workers are kept on the lower levels,” she pointed at the elevator farthest from them. “Then administrative staff are in the next. Then security — although they obviously have access to each floor.”

Dean frowned, realizing that the elevator they were standing at included only the upper levels of the castle. “This is the King’s elevator.”

“Yes. Your new apartment is on the floor below, to provide extra security.”

Dean felt nerves starting to race through his stomach. “Why would… I’m just a mechanic, ma’am. Soon to be driver, if the doctors are to be believed… I don’t really deserve that kind of status?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Raphael, head of security, it was his decision on where to house you and Miss Talbot.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to an empty car, they stepped on and the girl slid a keycard through a strip on the wall, before pressing the button for the proper floor. 

“Miss Talbot, that’s the other participant in the study? Have you met her? Is she nice?” He wasn’t really used to meeting people from outside of his personal work and home bubble, especially not castle staff members. His mom used to talk about how stuck up some of her coworkers were; how they’d look down on her because she had married John, a grounds mechanic, and moved out of the castle to live with her family. It was something that hardly ever happened.

Once they were closed off in the elevator and moving up towards the top floors, the girl sighed and looked over at him sympathetically. “I used to work with her in administration. Be careful. She’s a bit… _prickly._ And I don’t think she was happy about having to share her space with a grounds worker.”

Of course. As if it wasn’t hard enough to deal with switching jobs, switching homes, _and_ getting pregnant — he had to deal with a ‘prickly’ roommate that didn’t want him around. Fun times.

The elevator dinged on their destination floor long before Dean was ready to face his new future. Best to get it over with, he supposed.

He followed along patiently as he was lead down the hall, past numerous other apartment doors, before they arrived at a door marked ‘1524.’ The door was opened for him and the girl waved him inside. As he walked in and began looking around, she followed him and motioned towards the kitchen. “There is an order sheet for supplies, as needed. But the commissary and store for this area are a floor below and to the left. I also supplied a map and information about your new work position, as well as a schedule of the doctor’s visits they have planned over the next two weeks. If you need anything else, Raphael’s number is beside the phone.”

* * *

Bela Talbot could only be described as ‘prickly’ if the word ‘bitch’ was added after it. In fact, somewhere there was a dictionary describing what a _prickly bitch_ looked like, with her picture as the only description. She waltzed in the first evening, took one look at Dean searching through his things in the living room, made a snarky comment about him keeping his ‘dirty groundskeeper shit’ in his own room, and then shut herself away in the larger of the two bedrooms (Dean had checked, just for curiosity’s sake). 

Dean tried, over the following week, to avoid her as much as possible. It helped that he was kept busy by settling into his new job and the various doctor’s appointments. 

What didn’t help was when he found himself stepping onto the elevator, on his way to _the_ appointment (the one where actual semen would be put into his body in the hopes of baby creation), when Bela caught the door at the last second and slid into the car with him. He forced a smile when she looked his way, but she simply huffed and turned to face the elevator doors. As the elevator started it’s slow descent, he assumed she would get off at one of the administrative floors, but she remained.

Then, a wicked thought occurred to him. “Are you going to your insemination appointment?”

“Yes,” she answered, curtly. The next few floors went by in silence and then she turned to him and spoke again, “You know you won’t last up here, right? I mean, a male omega is one thing, but some trash from the grounds? One little slip up and they’ll be kicking you back to where you came from.”

He turned to her, feigning surprise. “You think so? What did they promise you when you signed up? Bonus? Promotion? New apartment?”

She huffed, turning away and sticking her nose in the air a bit, “I was offered a management role in the administration wing. Those bitches will be answering to me once I have a bun in the oven.”

Dean wasn’t too impressed, he had to admit. That didn’t seem like much of a selling point, in comparison to his move into a driver role and a home in the castle. He had to admit to feeling a bit bad for any of the people that had to call Bela _boss_ , though.

The elevator dinged and because he’d been raised with manners, Dean allowed Bela to walk out first, and then followed silently along behind her as they both walked towards the hospital. Though the journey was silent, he knew that Bela was definitely not done with her anger and bitchiness towards him.

* * *

After the procedure, Dean was instructed to lay in a bed in a small room off a deserted corridor in the hospital wing. He had a tablet with him to watch videos and maybe do some reading, and the whole experience would have been fine if not for one simple fact… ten minutes after he got settled, Bela’s bed was rolled in and placed across from his in the room, so they were forced to either stare at each other, or occupy themselves elsewhere.

Dean managed to read for about thirty minutes, before Bela slammed her cup down on her bedside table and demanded attention be focused on her. Rolling his eyes, Dean looked across the room. “What?”

“Who do you think the babies are for?” Bela asked, eyes looking over her nails like she was uninterested in the conversation she had so blatantly initiated.

“What?” Dean shook his head. “It’s an experiment to test if they can—”

“Bull _shit._ ” 

“My brother is the head doctor in charge of it all, I don’t think he’d lie to me…”

From across the room, Dean could see the exasperation on Bela’s face. She consistently looked like someone who wasn’t a fan of dealing with ‘mortal beings’ around her. “If it was a royal decree, would your brother tell you?”

“I—” He stopped himself from lying, because honestly? Dean wasn’t sure what Sam’s limits were on what knowledge he’d offer up freely to Dean. At that point, Sam’s devotions were fully invested in the kingdom, not his family, so if it was all a rouse, odds were that _yes_ , Sam would lie to Dean. “Oh,” he whispered to himself.

“You outsiders ever get any good kingdom gossip?” Bela asked. Dean shook his head, and she continued, “‘Course not. But me? I get all the gossip. And word on the street is that the queen is having some _issues_ with heir production.”

Dean frowned, “Last image I saw, she seemed to have a full head of hair. It’s always styled so fancy and…”

“Heir! You dimwit! H-E-I-R.”

“ _Oh._ ” Yeah… he felt a bit stupid about that one. He thought for a moment, and suddenly started to realize what Bela was saying. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he looked down at his stomach. “You think… you think it’s the—” he lowered his voice “— _King’s_ sperm?” He swallowed hard. What had seemed like an easy idea, for the most part, suddenly took on an entirely different form in his head.

It was one thing to breed a baby for some strangers in the city. But to literally be creating the next king or queen in his womb? 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Dean mumbled. He’d psyched himself up to the idea that he would have the kid and never have to see it again, knew that he would wonder about it’s life, but also knew that he could create fantasy ideas for how things were going.

Not anymore. If it was the king’s child, he would be forced to watch the baby grow up. God, especially if he was living in the castle and working as a driver — always stuck ferrying around his own kid who knew nothing of his role in the creation. Bossing him around like he wasn’t their fucking father because in reality, he wouldn’t be.

Dean sat up in a rush, pulling at wires and monitors to free his body. He was supposed to be resting to allow the sperm to do their job but _nope._ Not gonna happen! He found his clothes tucked under the table by the bed and quickly began dressing, completely ignorant of the other occupant in the room. Fuck Bela. Let her be the royal baby maker.

Once he was dressed, he stepped out of the room and looked both ways, surprised to see that no one was watching the door. Keeping them secured in their fates. He hurried down what he assumed was the right path, still shaking his head and arguing internally about how big of a _nope_ the whole thing was.

He rounded a corner and looked up just in time to run smack into his brother. If not for Sam’s quick reflexes grasping onto his elbow to keep him from falling, he’d be flat on his ass. He got his bearings again, and tried to push past Sam without a word.

“Dean? What are you doing?” Sam spun, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him. “You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I quit.”

“What?”

Dean shook off his brother’s touch and continued walking. “I said, I quit. Use Bela, she’s a much better option.”

“You can’t just quit!”

“Can. Will. Have.”

Sam’s voice sounded a bit panicked, “They’ll kick you out of the castle!”

“That’s okay, I liked my job in the garage.”

“You think you can say no to this and expect them to just give you your old job back? That isn’t how it works, Dean. You’ll be sent to the city with _nothing._ ”

He hesitated for a moment, thinking about that idea. Then he remembered his mother’s house, with the extra bedroom, and realized he wouldn’t be as bad off as most people made it seem. Those people were just too used to the life of luxury. But what in his life had ever been _luxurious?_

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Dean!”

He pointed, “Exit is this way, yeah?”

* * *

He was in the midst of packing up everything he had literally _just_ unpacked, when there was a knock on his bedroom door. “Not now, Bela,” he growled.

The door opened, ignorant of his response, and Dean turned, ready to give the bitch a piece of his mind — only to stop short at the sight before him.

Holy. Shit.

When he was a bit younger, before he realized he was destined for the servants life, he used to harbor a fairly serious crush for the then-Prince who was only a couple years older than him. Prince Castiel always had a surprisingly different alpha charm to him. Most alphas — like Luke, his old roommate — were just pushy dicks. Overly aggressive, always demanding they get their way.

Prince Castiel was somehow… _calmer_? He always seemed soft and friendly from afar. Something that a newly designated omega boy was especially into.

But magazines, newspapers, and video recordings were not doing the man justice. No photo lens would ever be able to show how truly magnificent those damn blue eyes were.

Standing five feet away from them, holding a half-folded pair of underwear, Dean felt frozen. Was he supposed to bow? How did people react to meeting the fucking king? Should he fall on the floor like in those old movies? Face down and hidden from the grace and excellency of the man standing before him?

It didn’t really matter, because Dean honestly couldn’t move if he had to.

“Dean, right?” the King spoke, moving farther into the room and shutting the bedroom door behind him.

_Fuck._ Dean was in a closed off bedroom with the King. He was going to fucking die. “I--yes?” he squeaked.

The King nodded because of _course_ he fucking knew who Dean was, why else would he be standing there? It wasn’t like he’d gone searching the other rooms on the floor just to find which one belonged to Dean! 

“I wanted to apologize to you. I understand this whole situation is a bit of a mess, and that the queen and I are asking a lot of you.” The King sighed, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed. “To be honest, if I was in your shoes, I’m certain I would run as well.”

Dean managed to move enough to shove the folded underwear back into the drawer, but couldn’t make himself look over in the direction of his King. “So it is supposed to be your child?”

“We’ve tried for years, but the queen cannot conceive. Your brother is my main doctor and we discussed with him the possibility of finding a surrogate. In theory, it seemed like a fantastic idea, especially if we could keep the rouse up and prevent you from finding out who the child would go to. Now, I’m seeing how that was a very selfish idea. Forcing you to watch your child grow in the spotlight, without any say.”

He snorted, “I’ll be my own kid’s servant.”

“Yes, yes you will. However, I understand that you have a mother living in the southern part of our nation? So I’ve come to renegotiate our offer. If you bear my child, my heir, I will allow you to keep the current position working in the garage, with a home in the castle… or I will have a home built for you and your mother in the south. If you choose to leave the city, I will send a monthly stipend to make sure that you and your mother are well provided for. Anything you need.”

“And if I leave now?”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw a frown cross over the King’s face. “My security leader has advised me to have you locked away, until we know if the insemination takes. I’m not a fan of locking anyone up that hasn’t committed a crime, though, so I would ask that you at least stay until you know if you are pregnant. You were… even in comparison to Miss Talbot, the most compatible partner.”

“If I’m not pregnant this time, will you allow me to go back to my old job?”

The King nodded, “If you’d like, although we still have an open position in the garage, that I hear you are more than qualified for.”

“Okay.” Dean took a deep breath and stared at his hands. “I will stay until we find out if the pregnancy took. If not, I don’t want to try again, fair?” He glanced up to see the nod, then looked away once more, “If I’m pregnant, I will have the child as promised, and go to live with my mother.”

“The queen and I are eternally in your debt, Dean. Anything you need to make you comfortable—”

“Can I get a room without Bela around? She stresses me out.”

King Castiel chuckled, standing and moving back to the door. “I’ll see what I can do about that. I believe Sam said something about a lack of stress being very important for the process.”

“Thanks.”

“Farewell, Dean, I hope to see you soon. I’ve informed everyone to leave you be for the rest of the day, so if you’d like to nap? Now is the perfect time.”

A nap sounded like a fantastic idea. He hadn’t realized why they were having him wait in the hospital, until he was halfway back to his room and all but exhausted. “Thank you, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If everyone picks out all of the subtle hints to canon in this chapter, I will be so happy. <3

When Dean woke up the next day, Bela’s things had been moved out of the apartment. Unfortunately, the things had been replaced by other items. And a person, sitting on the sofa in the living room. Dean frowned, head tilted as he stepped closer, still wearing his pajama pants and a soft shirt, as he looked over the young man sitting there so casually. “Can I help you?”

The guy finally looked up, smiling genuinely in Dean’s direction as he stood and held his hand out. “Hi! Dean, right? I’m Jack!”

_Jack_ apparently had the energy of a three-year-old. Dean shook his hand, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Nice to meet you, Jack. Why are you… why are you here?”

“I’ve been assigned as your assistant,” Jack answered with a smile. “I’m here to keep you company.”

“ _Guard_ me.”

“That too. Although, to be fair, you look like you could take me.” Jack continued to smile as he raised his hands up in front of his face and changed his stance. “Wanna practice?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned away and went to the small kitchen to find something to eat for breakfast. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like the king?” he asked, in the middle of mixing up oatmeal and fresh fruit.

“A few people. That’s probably why I’m the king’s body double during events away from the castle. Always ready to give my life for the monarchy.”

The statement was said in jest, but when Dean glanced quickly to Jack’s face, he could see the slightest hint of emotion in those guarded eyes. _Hmm._ “I assume they’ve told you why you’re guarding me?” He took his bowl of breakfast over to the sofa and sat down, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“Actually… no. I was told you were a high priority and that I wasn’t allowed to let you leave and/or escape.” Jack sat as well, opposite side of the sofa, his legs crossed beneath him like Dean could remember doing in the primary school reading circle as a kid. “Did you kill someone? Usually they don’t tell me about murders, but I can’t figure out any other reason why I would be here.”

Dean’s eyebrows creased, “Murders?” They made the castle and city out to be such a pleasant place…

“Confidential.”

“I’m guessing so is what I did, if you haven’t been told. King must be trying to prevent very many people from knowing the truth. Which, you know, is kind of bullshit? Because I’m going to go through with all of this shit, save the god-damn royal family, and no one will ever fucking know I did a thing.” He looked at his bowl of mushy food and used the spoon to swirl it a bit, hoping it would make it look more appetizing — _nope._ The more he thought about the damn situation he had found himself in, the more his appetite seemed to have disappeared. Great.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, remarkably, Dean actually started to _like_ Jack. He wasn’t quite sure if that was an honest reaction, or if it was just based on the fact that they were suddenly stuck together 24/7 and Dean had no other friends around to talk to. He missed Benny and the other guys out on the grounds. 

Because the-powers-that-be were worried he would try to escape, and he had been labeled a ‘flight/security risk’ — Dean was temporarily not allowed to work at the job he’d recently started in the castle. It left him with a lot of free time to dwell on things that he didn’t really want to think about, so like some twisted and warped devil-slash-angel, Jack stepped in and offered to keep him busy. First up? He showed Dean to the workout room on their floor, asking Dean shyly if he’d help Jack run through his mandatory fitness routine each day. 

Second, Jack showed him to the library, where they stumbled upon a trove of antique cookbooks and decided _what the hell_ they had time to spare, why not learn to bake like they did in the late-1800s. Dean had never really considered himself a ‘baker’, but he had to admit to having quite a bit of fun while knee deep in flour and sugar and throwing leftover dough at Jack’s (annoyingly) handsome young face.

Which lead to the third thing. Which Jack didn’t _show_ or _offer_ as an idea… it just sort of happened. And was probably more so Dean’s fault. He couldn’t really help that he was suddenly off of his suppressants for the first time and despite the fact that he wasn’t going through heat — he was _extremely_ horny.

And yes, Dean would gladly admit that Jack was _wayyyyyy_ too young for him (the kid was only 19!), but Jack had something that Dean’s body wanted: a knot. 

It started slowly. Dean wasn’t stupid enough to just throw himself at the kid! He did a bit of flirting (ie: through dough at the kid’s face/shirt and watched him blush before taking his shirt off), a bit of strategic questioning (‘must be hard to date when you’re a body double’), and then, in a moment of pure-fucking-genius, walked out of the shower with only a towel on.

After fingering himself thoroughly in the shower. And starting to _smell_ nice and pleasant.

As predicted, Jack was on the couch reading a book. As soon as Dean stepped into the room, still a bit _slick_ in the nether-regions, Jack took a deep breath, and his head turned towards Dean, eyes just the slightest bit _red_ around all of that blue as his nostrils flared.

“I need help with something,” Dean mused.

Jack — too young and sweet to be the rough kind of alpha that Dean usually slept with — let out a sound that was more whimper than grunt.

“In the bedroom,” Dean continued, and turned to go into his own room, leaving the door wide open.

He may have been young, but Jack wasn’t stupid. When the boy moved into the bedroom, it was like instinct kicked in, and Dean felt himself being shoved back onto his own bed. 

_There_ was the growl of a true alpha.

* * *

Four weeks after the implantation appointment, Sam carried a clipboard towards the room where his brother had been brought for a check-up. Sam had meant to stop by Dean’s apartment in the castle and check in on him a few weeks back, but had gotten distracted by Claire having a few hiccups in her own pregnancy. She was getting closer to the end and had experienced false-labor pains, but it had been enough to scare them both — and make them realize how close they were to the real thing.

Sam stopped outside of the door to Dean’s room and looked down at his paperwork. He had lab results from the blood tests they had done that morning. It made him nervous to think about how the results on that paper were going to change Dean’s future.

He knocked twice, before stepping into the room.

He maybe should have gave it a ten-count after the knock. He stopped in the doorway, staring in shock at his brother laid out on the table, with another younger man leaned over him. They were kissing, and Dean’s shirt had been rucked up where the other guy’s hand was exploring. Sam shut the door behind them (god if someone else had seen…) and cleared his throat, watching as the two quickly jumped apart.

Once the kid was facing Sam, cheeks red and hands tucked down to hide the line of an erection in his pants, Sam realized exactly who he was looking at. “Jack?” He’d stitched the kid’s arm up the year before, after a gunshot wound (meant for the king) had grazed him. “What are you—” His brain tried to catch up, tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together as to why Jack — the king’s body double — was standing there with Dean. Then he remembered Raphael saying something at the last meeting about how they’d placed a security guard in Dean’s apartment.

_Fuck._ What a fucking mess! He turned to Dean and glared, “You’re sleeping with your fucking bodyguard?” he hissed. “Denying the king his child wasn’t bravely stupid enough for you?”

“I’m not pregnant,” Dean growled.

At the same time, Jack whispered, “King’s child?”

Of course the kid didn’t have the clearance to know what the fuck was going on! Sam stepped out of the way and pointed at the door, “Go, Jack! You can guard from outside.” He waited until Jack finally left, before looking back to Dean and thrusting the clipboard at him. “You _are_ pregnant. Congratulations. Haven’t you had any symptoms? You must have known.”

Dean stared at the clipboard with a dead gaze, “No.”

“Good thing we have proof that you hadn’t met Jack before the implantation, otherwise we’d be dealing with bullshit from Raphael and the others about how it wasn’t really the King’s baby.”

“ _Fuck._ ” Dean breathed. Sam had been a doctor long enough to know when someone was about to either throw up or pass out, so he quickly grabbed for one of the medical waste bags and thrust it towards his brother. Sure enough, a second later his brother was using the bag to catch whatever he’d ate for breakfast.

Sam moved across the room, grabbing a small cup and filling it with cool water, before sliding his chair up to the edge of the bed where Dean sat. Once the puking had stopped, he took the waste bag and replaced it with the cup of water. “Drink,” he demanded, before throwing the bag away.

Dean obliged him, but his hand was shaking as he slowly drank the water. When he was done, Dean looked over at Sam, tears starting to blossom in his eyes. “I don’t… Sammy, I can’t do this.”

Surprisingly, Claire had said something almost identical to him, when she found out she was pregnant. She had been so scared, and it had made him realize for the first time that having a baby — being _pregnant_ — was a lot more stressful, a lot harder, than anything Sam was doing as the one providing the sperm in the equation. 

Granted, he knew that Dean’s situation was a little different, and his fears were probably focused on a lot more than just ‘oh fuck I have something growing inside of me’, but Sam still understood on some level what his brother was going through. He stood, and for the first time in literally _years_ , wrapped his arms around his brother in a hug. “Hey, listen, you can do this, okay? It’s going to be a challenge, yes, but my big brother? My big brother has never once said ‘no’ to a challenge in his life. We’re talking about the guy that started taking care of the family at sixteen, moved away from everything he knew without any fear at all…”

“My kids going to be a king,” Dean mumbled.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Dean finally looked up at him, a frown on his face as Sam pulled away and sat back down. “What do you mean?” Dean asked.

Sam licked his lips and looked around the room, like he was checking their privacy, even though he knew for a fact that no one else had access to the information spoken in those particular rooms. “Bela’s bloodwork also came back positive. She’s also pregnant. Whoever’s kid is next in line, will be born first.”

Dean continued to frown. “We had the insemination done on the same day.”

“Yup. But babies don’t like to work on anyone’s time table but their own. We did this on purpose, of course. We wanted two candidates in case anything went wrong, but we also didn’t want to show any kind of favoritism as to who would bore the heir.”

His brother took a long, deep breath, and surprisingly — Sam could see a bit of weight lifting off of his shoulders. He didn’t understand what would possibly be causing that, until Dean looked up and smiled for the first time. “I was so worried that my kid would always have power over me, if I went through with this. I guess I didn’t realize there was a scenario where my child might not be the next ruler of this country.”

“That could still change, of course. We have to get through the first three months to know that we are in the clear from miscarriages.” Sam slid effectively back into ‘doctor’ mode. “Now, we need to talk about this thing you have going with Jack.”

“Sam—”

“I get it, you’ve been shoved into this situation and he’s the only one you have around to lean on, but I want to warn you of something.” Sam looked up, hesitating for only a moment, “Raphael, head of security and the King’s right-hand man? He is _ruthless_. He will do anything to protect his king. Now that you are pregnant, he can’t touch you, but don’t think for one second that would stop him from punishing Jack if he found out what has been going on, okay?” Sam watched the frown blossom back onto Dean’s face. “Jack is a good kid; he doesn’t deserve to lose everything he’s worked for, just because you wanted to get laid.”


	5. Chapter 5

Madelyn Charles was born in the city, to a loving mother and a disapproving father. Women, in her father’s eyes, were never going to succeed or amount to much, and her father stared at Madelyn as a newborn and felt anger for the doctors that had promised him a boy.

Of course, Madelyn never learned her father’s disdain until she was old enough to understand that the reason why she wasn’t allowed to see him or spend time with him like most children did with their fathers, was because of his shame. He was a high ranking government official, tasked with keeping the city running under the watchful eye of the king… he couldn’t be seen with a weakness. The fact that her mother never succeeded in having another child, just seemed to make the matter worse.

When Madelyn was thirteen and presented as an omega, her father finally found her worth. He spent a long day in talks and negotiations with Pacifica’s high powers, and when it was realized that the prince was just a few months older than Madelyn and would one day need a queen, her father jumped at the opportunity. She was immediately moved into the castle and began being groomed as the next queen.

She hated it. Hated the pomp and exaggerated niceties of royal life — hated that suddenly she couldn’t just eat her favorite snack without first getting approval from the kitchen, and then sitting properly in the ginormous dining room.

She missed her mother. Her friends. Her home. But the royal life was her life now.

Despite being there in the castle and destined to marry him, she didn’t meet Castiel until she was fifteen. The occasion was a royal ball, hosting delegates from Pacifica and other countries, and it took three hours of having people fuss over her, before she was deemed worthy of stepping out into the large ballroom. 

Madelyn wanted to immediately hate Prince Castiel. He was ruining her life, even without intention, and she hated the king, so obviously that hatred would trickle down…

_Nope._

In comparison to the king, who was, to put it nicely, an _asshole_ , Castiel was one of the sweetest people she’d ever met. They were properly introduced, shared a quick dance to hold up ‘appearances’... and then, once everyone’s attention had moved away from them, Castiel placed a hand on her elbow and guided her to a darkened alcove.

“Hi,” he whispered, shyness blossoming on his face as he ducked his gaze. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s… I know this sucks. I’m sorry for that.”

Madelyn was immediately smitten. She was a fifteen year old girl looking into the _very pleasant_ face of her eventual husband. Reaching out, she hooked her hand in his and squeezed gently. “It isn’t your fault. We’re just a product of bad fathers, right?”

Castiel smiled, his palm a bit sweaty against hers. “Yeah, I guess so.”

* * *

Because they had officially met, didn’t mean they were suddenly able to spend time together. Madelyn was allowed to eat across the table from him, but that was the most interaction she had with Castiel.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the King.

It was a well-kept secret among the higher ups in the castle that the King had a thing for young omegas. Thankfully, since she was betrothed to his son, he wasn’t allowed to do _everything_ with her. That didn’t keep his hands from touching, though. When she was ‘invited’ to attend a class on how to please her alpha mate, she balked at the sight of the King sitting patiently in a chair at the side of the room. He sat through the entire hour long instruction, then dismissed everyone in the room except for Madelyn and demanded she show him _personally_ , what she had learned.

For those two years of her life, Madelyn was in the darkest place mentally that she had ever seen. Some days she wanted to run — threat of death upon capture be damned — other days she wanted to just take care of the death part on her own. Teach the King a lesson.

The only thing that kept her at the castle was Castiel. His sweet innocent smile when she’d walk into the dining room.

That, and one small secret that she kept locked deep, deep down. 

Her father and the King were relying on her for one thing — one day, she would give birth to an heir. What they didn’t know, was a secret that her mother had whispered to her the night before she moved to the castle. Her mother had been crying, apologetic for the way that the news would one day ruin Madelyn’s life.

Madelyn, honestly, found the whole thing to be quite ironic.

Omegas in their family, her mother whispered, were _barren._ Betas were lucky if they could have one child, but it had been several generations since two children were born to the same mother. _Family curse._

Blessing, seventeen-year-old Maddy thought. It was a goddamn blessing.

* * *

Madelyn’s maid brought her a letter at breakfast, as she ate alone in the quiet of her study. Castiel was off, traveling on a two-day tour of some storm damage in the southern part of the country. 

The letter was from Sam, sealed well in an envelope and when she opened it, she unfolded the crisp paper to see two words written in careful handwriting.

_Positive. Both._

She replaced the letter in it’s envelope and threw it to her left, watching it fly for a moment, before landing quietly on top of the flames in the fireplace. The paper began to burn, and Madelyn grabbed her coffee.

When she was younger, it had been important to her that the monarchy fall — she’d hated the previous king with such a passion, that she wanted nothing but to see him destroyed.

Unfortunately, she loved Castiel enough that her opinions had changed with time. For the first five years of his rule, he’d done everything he could to change the damage his father had done. He’d cleaned up the desolate parts of the city, offered monetary assistance to the poor and sick, and participated in a weekly meeting to make sure every department in the castle was running smoothly with happy employees.

He was amazing, she just wished that he didn’t have a negative voice from his father’s era whispering in his ear.

Finishing her food, she stood and went back to her room to dress for the day. “Cheyanne,” she called from the closet. Her personal handmaiden stepped into the room with a soft ‘yes, ma’am’. Madelyn looked over her shoulder at the girl, “I’m going to be doing some gardening. Can you invite our guest on the floor below — his name is Dean — to join me in an hour?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Cheyanne left, quietly but quickly, and Madelyn quickly changed into her work appropriate clothing. 

Her garden was on the roof — a compromise that Castiel had made, when Madelyn demanded a space she could go to that was quiet and allowed her to be alone… especially free of guards. A new shipment of spring flowers had been delivered, ready to be replanted in the ground, and she had just begun organizing where things would go, when she heard the metal door opening behind her. Standing, she brushed off the dirt on her pants and smiled at the way Dean was carefully stepping out into her space. 

He had a guard behind him, and she immediately glared, moving over to be heard more easily. “Wilkins, you know you aren’t allowed here.”

“But, ma’am, Raphael says I’m not supposed to leave him—”

“Did I stutter, Wilkins?”

The man ducked his head, “No, ma’am. I’ll be just inside the door—”

“You’ll be at the bottom of the stairs, or you’ll be removed, Wilkins. You know the rules.”

He didn’t say another word as he ducked back into the building and let the door shut behind him. Madelyn finally smiled, moving over to Dean and holding out her hand. “Dean, right?”

“Uh… yes. Your majesty.”

She snickered, shaking his hand and then patting his back. “Up here? On the roof? It is Madelyn, and nothing more, okay?”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I could be killed for that or something else equally obnoxious—”

“My roof, my rules. There are no cameras, no listening devices, no security guards. It is my space to do as I please, and after spending tedious hours a day being called all of this formal bullshit… forgive me if I want a few hours to be nothing more than Madelyn.”

He seemed to visibly relax at that, causing her to smile and motion towards the area where her new plants had been delivered. “I was hoping,” she started, “that you would help me plant my new spring arrivals. Sometimes the castle is a bit stuffy, and I figured you could use some fresh air.”

Dean took a long deep breath, before following her. “It is nice to be in the sun.”

“Do you burn easy? I have lotion—”

“Actually, yeah,” he laughed, cheeks a bit red. Madelyn handed over the lotion and couldn’t help but compare his sweet blush to the one that Castiel had when he was younger.

For the next thirty minutes, she did nothing more than describe to him what her plans were for the space, and point out how each plant needed to be placed. Once they were knee deep in dirt and working away, she finally broached the topic that had been sitting like an elephant in the space between them. “Congratulations on the pregnancy.”

Dean ducked his head, focusing his attention on the petunia in his hand. “Thanks.”

“It’s a lot of nonsense, you know… monarchs and the demand to keep a family line going. Sometimes I wonder if the people should pick their leader, like in the Commonwealth.” She smiled over at him, “I used to love studying how their parliament was run. I know that Castiel would appreciate not having to make so many decisions, but I fear other influences will keep him from reaching that point.” Her eyes sparkled a bit as she looked to Dean’s stomach. “Maybe our child will change things.”

“I have to admit,” Dean whispered, “I’m a bit unsure of all of this. I feel like I got thrown into the situation without any say, and now I’m going to not only give up my child, but… I’m worried what will happen after the fact.”

“How so? Castiel said he offered to move you south with your mother, or allow you to stay here…”

Dean sat back on his feet, knees still digging in the dirt, hands on his thighs. He wouldn’t look at her, instead allowing his gaze to focus on the few clouds in the sky. “I… I feel like they won’t allow loose ends? Like, if I’m the only one that knows the king’s child isn’t actually well… _yours_ , then won’t it be easy to just kill me, to keep me quiet?”

It was a very valid point. Madelyn couldn’t say that she hadn’t spent parts of her life expecting that to happen to her. Especially when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to be getting pregnant any time soon. Raphael could easily whisper in Castiel’s ear, demand a new queen…

She reached out, laying her hand on top of his. “I won’t let that happen, Dean. I know that my word, against that army of soldiers downstairs, doesn’t seem like much… but there is no one that Cas trusts more than me. Worst case scenario? If I hear word that that particular plan might be taking place, I have people that can help get you out of both the castle, and the city. Somewhere safe.”

Dean stared silently at her for a long moment, before finally whispering, “Promise?”

She squeezed his hand. “I promise.”

* * *

Dean helped her in the garden for the rest of the day, then left with a promise that he would be back in two days to help once more.

The following day, Madelyn invited Bela up to the roof, wanting to gauge the woman’s thoughts on pregnancy, in comparison to Dean’s.

Talk about night and _day._ Where Dean had shown up wearing jeans and a nice shirt… Bela stepped onto the roof dressed to the nines in formal wear. She looked at Madelyn, in her dirty gardening jeans and sweater, and all but _sneered._ No gardening for her then. Madelyn ushered her over to the corner of the rooftop where a table and two chairs sat, as well as tea service.

Before Madelyn could even begin, Bela began talking about all of the things she expected from the King and Queen when she gave birth. Then she started in on how a lucrative arrangement could be made for both parties, where in Bela continued to birth offspring for the King, and in return was given a title and nice living quarters in the castle — enough money to never have to work again.

_What a snake._

By the end of the whole process (which lasted about an hour, in comparison to the five or so that she’d spent with Dean), Madelyn had a headache and quickly ushered Bela away without any plans to see the woman again unless she absolutely had to.

Was it evil to wish a miscarriage on someone?

Probably.

_Still._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay -- it's big bang season so I've been trying to get that stuff wrapped up. Here you go, though. I do promise that eventually... Castiel _will_ be likable. Even from Dean's side of things. Remember this fic is going to be long!

His second month of pregnancy hit a lot harder than the first. The first week in he was miserable, the second week he was not only miserable, but also weak from throwing up and lack of appetite. By the third week of barely eating, barely sleeping, Jack intervened, walking into Dean's bedroom and staring at him for a long moment before declaring, “We're going to see Sam. He must have some answers… something you can take so you can actually eat a meal.”

It was a good plan, in theory, but as soon as Dean tried to stand up from the bed, his weak legs gave out and he fell into Jack’s arms. “Plan B,” Jack mumbled, “Sam is coming here. Lay back down… I’ll call him.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he complied with the order. Wasn’t really sure if he knew his own name or where he was at that particular moment. He blinked and was back in bed, then a moment later, another heartbeat, he was opening his eyes to stare up at his brother’s face. Sam looked worried, talking to Dean in a far off voice — trying to get him to focus long enough to answer Sam. He opened his mouth to reply, wanted so hard to ask his brother why he didn’t love Dean anymore…

He let out a whimper, then promptly turned his head and threw up on himself.

“Call medical. We need a gurney team up here!”

* * *

When Dean blinked awake the next time, he was in a darkened room surrounded by a few beeping machines. _Hospital,_ his brain said.

He still felt too weak to hold his head up, but he was able to lull it to the right, trying to see his surroundings. He spotted the open door leading out into a busy hospital area, and when he looked down, he had an IV trailing into his arm.

“Over here,” a voice whispered.

He turned to look to his left, surprised to see his brother sitting there in jeans and a worn flannel. “Sammy?” he croaked, throat sore.

Sam stood, grabbing a cup of water and holding the straw out for Dean to take a few sips. As Dean drank, Sam smiled gently. “Leave it to you to get severe morning sickness.”

Dean pulled away from the straw, watched his brother sit back down and place the cup back on the table. “‘S that all it is? Thought I was dead.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “your levels were dangerously low and you were severely dehydrated. We’re lucky Jack was there to realize how bad things were.”

Dean ‘hmm’ed before whispering, “He’s a good kid.”

“About that....” When Sam didn’t immediately continue, Dean watched his face in confusion, trying to understand what was wrong. Eventually, Sam let out a soft sigh and looked up to hold Dean’s gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day… about you and him. When I told Claire what happened later, she literally smacked me, before reading me the riot act. Apparently through all the stress of trying to make this royal kid thing happen, I’ve started to dehumanize you a bit and overlook your role in things. I just—” Sam scraped a worried hand over his face and then back through his shaggy hair. “I’m worried what will happen if this doesn’t work. Raphael… it’s been expressly stated that if I can’t accomplish this, can’t get the King an heir, then my position here will be reevaluated. This is all I know to do, and if they kick me out, they also kick out Claire and the baby so…”

It was the most Sam had said to him in years, and Dean had to admit to himself it was nice to get even a small glance into his brother’s life and what he was going through. Before he had gotten so sick, Dean had intended to go visit his sister-in-law… ask her some pertinent questions about what to expect with pregnancy. It was nice to know that even if he hadn’t spent much time with Sam’s mate, she was obviously on his side. “I understand. I mean… I get how stressful it must be, being the main say when it comes to the health of the royal family. I can’t imagine.”

“It’s… well…” Sam huffed out a humorless laugh, “I hate it? Something happens to the King’s health and my head is immediately on the chopping block — literally. I think there’s a clause somewhere that says if he dies, I can be held accountable for his death.”

“That’s… _shitty._ ”

“It’s stressful, and even worse now with Claire and the baby. After five years, I can be reevaluated for a new position, though, so I’m just crossing my fingers that the next two years go well.”

“I’m guessing once a royal baby is born, the stress will diminish some, eh?” Dean was starting to understand his brother. Starting to understand where some of the hostility and abrasiveness came from.

“That’s… yeah. That is a big thing right now. I get messages from Raphael daily about updates. That man is a menace.”

“That’s kind of what the Queen said.”

* * *

Dean spent a week in that same hospital room. Sam wasn’t comfortable with letting him check out until all of his levels were back up into normal range. Unfortunately, even with the medications he was now on, Dean was still dealing with fairly serious nausea and lack of appetite. When he went home, _finally_ , he found the kitchen counter covered with various types of protein drinks and Jack smiling triumphantly.

“Sam said you may need to rely on a mostly liquid diet for the next month or so, and that it’s important for you to get enough protein each day. So I scavenged every flavor I could find from the nutrition department… even ordered a few from the city.”

“I— wow.” Dean smiled, grateful to have someone there to look out for him. On more than a few occasions over the past few weeks, he had wished his mother was around to take care of him, like she did when he was a child.

“He also suggested that a bath every once in awhile might be good to help you relax. So I got some bath salts that he recommended.” Jack held up the container, shaking it as proof of its contents.

Dean grinned, thinking of the large bathtub in his room. “You wanna join me?”

* * *

Castiel had monitored Dean’s condition from afar — he didn’t want to overwhelm the omega’s already precarious health by adding on the pressure of a state visit, so he’d been monitoring Sam’s notes and receiving daily updates. When he received news that Dean had been released and was feeling better, Castiel was down in the city and couldn’t immediately rush back to see Dean with his own eyes.

Once he arrived home, that was the only thing on his mind. Making sure that his child was still okay, that the man carrying his child was well. 

Unfortunately, meetings had a way of rearing their ugly head, and it was another week before he finally broke, demanding an afternoon of freedom without giving his assistant any explanation as to what he’d be doing. His assistant gaped at him for a full thirty seconds, before Castiel got tired of the look and waved a dismissive hand. The queen was gone for a week on a humanitarian mission, so the royal apartment was mostly quiet. Castiel slipped away, ignoring his guards as he went to the elevator and pressed the button for a floor below. 

The doors opened and he stepped out, heading down the hallway to Dean’s room that he had visited before. Unfortunately, before he could reach said room, someone stepped into his path, wearing a bright smile. 

“My king! It’s so lovely to see you.”

He blinked, taking in the dark haired woman with mischievous eyes and realizing it was the other omega, Bela. “Miss Talbot, you’re looking well.”

“Thank you, sire, I’m feeling amazing. I haven’t been sick once and everything seems to be progressing perfectly.”

He watched her put a protective hand on her lower abdomen, where his baby grew. He could smell the change in her scent… the marker that made his alpha happy about procreating, but even still, he felt… different, around Bela, in comparison to Dean. Maybe it was the woman’s attitude, or how she seemed to be handling the whole thing like she’d won a lottery and was suddenly going to be queen.

As if he would ever give up Madelyn for the likes of someone like Bela. Power hungry and unsympathetic to others… he had read her file.

“Pregnancy suits you,” he placated. “Where are you off to? Work?”

“Yes, unfortunately. The most stressful part of this mess is having to keep working… I come home so exhausted.”

Castiel frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be on light duty?”

“Oh, I am. But _still…_ ” A pout blossomed on her face, and he realized quickly that she was trying to manipulate him. _Of course._

“I’ll see what I can do. Now if you don’t mind, Miss Talbot, I must check on Mr. Winchester. He’s had some health problems while I’ve been away, and I want to see for myself that he is recovering well.”

“I suppose we can't all handle pregnancy as well as I am. Maybe that old folklore about women being meant to carry children is true.”

He gave her a terse smile, wished her a good day, and continued down the hallway.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard an opinion like that. His father and Raphael had believed quite the same, always demanding that Castiel only consider female omegas for possible mates. It had made things particularly difficult, when he'd always felt more attracted to males.

Arriving at Dean's door, he knocked softly and tried to shake off his previous thoughts. He wanted to focus his attention on Dean — not on a man that was long since dead and the restrictions he had subjected Castiel to from day one.

There was a rustling on the other side of the door, followed by the solid wood pulling open and Dean standing on the other side, looking super comfortable in a pair of worn pajama pants and t-shirt that was a size too big. Castiel opened his mouth, ready to greet Dean and remark on how well he was looking… until the scent hit him.

His nostrils flared and he stepped closer to Dean, pressing into his personal space as he dipped his head to catch the scent again. _Alpha._ Another alphas scent was all over Dean. Castiel pushed forward, brushing past Dean without a word. The alpha’s scent was _all over_ but it seemed like Dean was alone in the apartment. Castiel spun in a rush, watching Dean close the door and glaring at the other man. “ _Who is he?_ ”

Dean frowned, confusion written on his face. “What?”

“You’re supposed to be _single._ That was the deal. Single omega to have my child.” Judging by the way Dean was ducking his head in submission… Castiel’s alpha was obviously posturing more than normal. He knew he should take a deep breath and gain a rational opinion over what was happening, but all he could see was _red._

“I… I…”

“TELL. ME. WHO. HE. IS!”

Dean dropped to his knees at the sound of Castiel yelling — a long ago omega trait that wasn’t very common anymore, but when an alpha made an aggressive demand, an omega’s life could be at stake if they didn’t immediately obey. With a baby on board, Dean’s instincts to submit and protect his child would be running wild.

“Jack,” Dean whispered, voice soft and shaking.

“Who?” Castiel continued scanning the small apartment, trying to find a clue that would give him the answers he needed.

“Jack,” Dean repeated, a little louder. “He’s the security agent they put here to monitor me.”

Understanding dawned, clearing some of the angry fog in his mind. “My body double, yeah? Jack Kline?”

“Yes.”

Castiel left Dean on his knees in the entryway and walked to the bedroom that was Dean’s. When he opened the door, the smell of sex was enough to make him gag. “ _You let him knot you,_ ” he growled.

“Omega instinct,” Dean whispered. “I needed a companion—”

“Right. Sure.” Castiel walked back to Dean. “I don’t see Bela whoring herself out.”

“There was no rule about—”

“Well there is now!” Castiel couldn’t explain why he was so worked up. It had to be a deep seated alpha instinct, smelling his child’s scent beneath the cloying scent of another alpha, that was making him react so badly. Whatever the case, he wouldn’t stand for it happening again! “I expect to never smell anything more than my child’s scent on you, do you understand?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“I’ll take care of Jack.”

“Please—”

“He cannot remain here, Dean. I can’t…”

Dean shook his head, and Castiel spotted a wet tear running down his face. “Don’t hurt him. It isn’t his fault. I asked him to do it.”

Castiel gritted his teeth. His alpha wanted to see Jack’s head in a basket, but a more sound voice made note of how badly that would go. HIs kingdom didn’t execute people unless they committed high crimes. “He will remain in his position, but be moved from here.”

“Promise?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You have my word.”

“On our child’s life?”

Castiel growled, forced into a corner by Dean’s request. “Yes,” he managed, “On our child’s life, I promise.”

Dean nodded and for a long moment they remained in their respective positions, with a deadly silence settling over them. Finally, Dean reached out to the wall, leaning against it as he pulled himself up from the floor. When Castiel reached out to help, Dean glared, sneering under his breath, “Don’t _touch_ me.”

It was exactly what Castiel needed for the fog of alpha anger to start to clear. He had come there to check on Dean’s health… and made things _worse._ He dropped his hand and stepped away, moving quickly to the door. “I have to go.”

“That’d be good, yeah.”

Halfway out the door he stopped, turning back and opening his mouth to speak, but when he saw Dean leaning against the wall, back to Castiel and arm wrapped protectively around his stomach, Castiel knew that he’d done enough damage.

_Be well, Dean,_ he thought, closing the door behind him and dropping his head as he quietly walked back to the elevator. 

What a fool he was.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding a note to say: this chapters has references to past underage (consensual, Cas was 16) sex. Skim over the 'before' section to avoid.

In the entire kingdom… in all of the realm that Castiel so valiantly ruled over, there was one person that he always _knew_ was friend, never foe. He trusted Madelyn, of course, but there were still moments when he would look in her eyes and sense that she was keeping something from him. Everyone else just used him to gain favor; ever since he was a boy, he’d been the stepping stone to a better position in the kingdom. Made worse by the crown that now adorned his head (when he felt like wearing the damn thing, of course).

Fergus Crowley, though, could care less about Castiel’s crown. He didn’t care about king or state, and hated everything to do with politics. Madelyn called him the ‘monk’ of Pacifica. It was close to the truth (Crowley loved reading about ancient religions and hiding himself away in the mountains), but in all reality, Crowley was worn down from a childhood of living under his mother’s rule in Europe. Castiel had never met the woman, but he had heard his friend refer to her as a ‘witch’ on more than a few occasions. When Crowley sought sanctuary and immigrated to Pacifica, Castiel’s father had barely blinked… but Castiel had been enraptured by the stranger with a unique accent. Since Crowley was only a few years older and staying with an aunt there in the castle, it was easy for the two boys to make friends.

So it was no surprise that Castiel had thoughts of seeing only one person, when he walked away from Dean’s apartment in a fit of alpha rage. He knew that he need both to calm himself down, and to talk to someone resigned from the situation that could give him a different perspective.

He went directly to the security office and ordered up the helicopter to be prepared. “I need to take a trip to the mountains,” he offered as explanation. When the men tried to argue and his assistant suddenly appeared with a list of things that were _urgent_ , Castiel waved them all off. “Now!”

Two hours later the helicopter was landing at the small airfield where Castiel kept a car for those particular trips. It was a twenty minute drive to Crowley’s hideaway, and the security detail knew better than to try and follow him. That place, there hidden amongst towering trees and snow capped mountains, was the one place where no one ever expected the king to be.

When Castiel drove the car up the winding driveway to where Crowley’s log cabin sat, he smiled at the sight of the large black dog running out to greet him. He parked the car and climbed out, leaning down to let the dog get a few good licks at his face. “Hello, Juliet. How have you been, love?” The dog woofed happily at him, before turning and running back towards the house. Castiel followed, looking up to see his best friend standing in the doorway waiting for him. “Did you hear me coming?” he asked, getting closer.

“Heard the copter first, then Jules let me know you were here.” Crowley stepped aside, allowing Castiel to pass into the house. “Is this a visit for tea, or scotch?”

Castiel hung his coat and took a deep breath, “Definitely scotch.”

Crowley met him in the large living room, carrying a decanter of scotch and two tumblers filled with a couple of ice cubes. He held out a glass to Castiel, then poured him a bit of whisky and sat down in the high backed chair across from him. Castiel took a long slow sip of the expensive alcohol and closed his eyes at the familiar burn sliding down the back of his throat.

His friend had amazing taste in liquor.

Minutes passed in silence until finally Crowley spoke up, “Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?”

“Maddy and I have two omegas working as surrogates for us. Both are pregnant.”

“Surrogates.” Crowley crinkled his eyebrows in a frown. “Were they made aware of who they were carrying children for? That seems like a messy disaster to be walking into.”

Castiel ducked his head, feeling a bit ashamed. All of his interactions with Dean had started to show him that yeah… they had gone through things a bit backward. Their desires to make sure everything stayed out of the public eye, had made them make some serious mistakes. He wanted to blame everything on Raphael — who treated the need for an heir like his own personal life’s mission — but knew that he and Madelyn were definitely more than ‘partly’ to blame.

“I take it from your silence,” Crowley spoke over his drink, “that the omegas were _not_ properly informed.”

“We were trying to keep things quiet so that the public didn’t question having an heir that wasn’t born from the queen.” Castiel finished his scotch and twisted the glass, watching the ice cubes swirl. “It would have been fine, maybe, if I hadn’t fucked up…”

“If I remember correctly, the reason why the experiments weren’t working is because if an alpha found the omega carrying their child, they started to get protective.” Crowley let out a huff of a laugh. “You picked a male, didn’t you?”

“Our physician picked the two omegas that most closely resembled Madelyn,” Castiel defended.

“One of which just happened to be a male.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, allowing Crowley to refill his glass as he laid his head back against the cushion on the chair. He knew exactly what Crowley was alluding to. It was hard not to.

“Cas—”

* * *

**Before.**

* * *

Sometimes Castiel wished he had an older brother. Someone there to take on the role that he so desperately hated. 

The night he met his future bride-to-be, it was like reality started to sink in. He was one day going to be king, he would marry a woman that his father had deemed suitable, sire children for the future of the land, and never have any say in his own destiny.

He’d put on a brave face for Madelyn’s sake… they were both so young, but she didn’t deserve to be treated badly when she hadn’t had any say in the whole matter either. He’d smiled, apologized for the ordeal, and then followed the instruction of his main guard when he was instructed back to his room.

Miserable. He was… absolutely miserable. The depression seeped into his bones, the same way it had as a child when the sun would stay hidden behind clouds for months on end.

“Castiel,” his father growled, the next morning at the breakfast table. 

Castiel blinked, focusing his attention back on his father. “Yes, sir?”

“Have you been listening to me?”

“No, sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well and my mind is still tired, I believe.”

He caught the look of annoyance on his father’s face, but the King quickly shook it off and focused back on his meal. “The delegates from Mexicali arrive today. Remember how we discussed their son coming to stay while he attends one of our universities?”

“Right.” Castiel did mostly remember that conversation. Michael, the son of one of Mexicali’s generals, was an omega that Castiel had met on a few occasions at special dinners. Nice enough, but older than Castiel… old enough that he’d all but ignored the annoying child following him around and asking questions about the southern nation.

“I expect you to meet them at the airport. You’re to be the liaison for Michael while he is staying with us, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

The last time they had met, Castiel was eleven and Michael had been fifteen. Now Castiel had reached his sixteenth birthday, and Michael was twenty and… _very_ grown-up.

Castiel could barely say anything through the entire ride back from the airport. His alpha was practically purring deep down inside of him, happy to be in the company of an unmated omega that it found acceptable. When they arrived back at the castle, an assistant had broken the news that apparently Michael’s room would be right next to Castiel, to allow Michael a familiar face nearby in case he needed something.

The first week went by in stilted conversations and meal times that never quite connected because of Michael’s class schedule. He was set to be there for eight weeks. _Two months._ Which meant, on top of everything else, that there would at least be one heat cycle during that period, unless Michael was on suppressants. 

The more time he spent around the omega, though, the more he got to thinking that Michael wasn’t using suppressants. Omegas on suppressants always had very muted scents, and Michael smelled like Castiel was standing in the middle of a rainforest during a storm. He could practically feel the rain and wind pelting his skin when he first saw the omega in the mornings.

It was the Wednesday of week two, when there was a quiet knock on Castiel’s bedroom door. It was evening, not particularly late, but Castiel had snuck away to his room to avoid his father and his father’s ‘friends’ (aka the women he had over). Castiel’s own mother had died years before, and he was, somewhat, used to his father secretly parading women around the castle… but it still put a sick feeling in his gut. One of his main vows was to never be like that when he became king. It wasn’t an ideal situation, to marry someone he barely knew and would not get the opportunity to know more of until after the wedding, but he would still remain faithful to Madelyn… he swore it to himself.

“Michael,” he said, opening the door and surprised to see the omega standing there. He stepped aside, allowing the older man access into his bedroom. “Come in. Everything alright?”

“Yes, actually, I was just seeking out a break from the studying. I thought you might have some games that could be rustled up?”

“I’m sure I can find something. Dinner was abysmal… want me to call and have them bring up a snack?”

“Please!”

* * *

They spent every evening like that over the next week, and Castiel found what had started as a small flicker of desire, turning into a raging fire. After Michael went back to his room every night, Castiel was forced to deal with the erection pressing against the zipper of his pants. He was sure that Michael could smell the lust in his scent, and every night he expected to not hear the knock, because Michael was tired of having a teenage alpha lusting after him.

Every night, the knock still came.

Castiel was finding it harder and harder to keep his hands to himself. 

In the end, it was Michael that made the first move, tossing a leg over Castiel’s and straddling his lap, leaning forward for a searing kiss. When the kiss broke, Michael ran the pad of his thumb along Castiel’s bottom lip. “My heat is next week. I want you to help me through it.”

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “Without question.”

* * *

**Now.**

* * *

“Cas.”

He blinked, shaking away the memories of Michael and focusing back on Crowley. “I’m here,” he whispered, voice soft and broken. He tried not to think about Michael, despite how large of a role the whole thing had played out back then. No one really knew all the details, aside from Crowley. He hadn’t even told Madelyn.

“I think you’re going to need to remove yourself from this situation, as much as possible. If you don’t, bad things are bound to happen.”

“He’s living _right there_. Has to be nearby for security reasons. We can’t let others start asking questions…”

Crowley nodded, finishing the last of his drink. “Then make yourself a rule, that however much time you spend with him, you spend an equal amount with the female omega. At least convince your alpha that it’s attached to both of the children.”

That might possibly work, he had to admit to himself. And the idea of spending time around Ms. Talbot would certainly make him avoid Dean.

“Also,” Crowley mused, “You need to address the fact that you’ve forced them into such a difficult situation. I’ve known of similar plans overseas that have ended terribly. Create a plan of action for each of the omegas and their futures, and make sure that it is signed and in writing. No one likes to spend nine months expecting that their head will be chopped off at the end.”

“I would never—”

“No, of course not. But would Raphael?”

 _Shit._ Castiel looked away, thinking once more of Michael and realizing that Crowley was right. “I wish I could get rid of that man.”

“He must be close to retirement at this point,” Crowley replied.

“Close, but unfortunately not close enough. I fear that he still has far too large a role of power, and is still forcing my father’s beliefs onto every decision I try to make.”

“Maybe it’s time to start training replacements. Creating an environment around you that protects your interests, rather than a dead man’s. Don’t forget, Castiel, that you are king.”

As if he could forget such a thing. He went to bed every night with the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders. Always wishing that he would wake up the next morning and magically be someone else. Someone normal, without responsibility.

The rest of the visit with Crowley was far more subdued, as they discussed recent financial matters and some upheaval happening overseas. Crowley mentioned his mother’s name at one point, sneering at the way the woman was ruining a ‘good country’ with her ideations of what being queen meant. Castiel knew very well that Crowley would appreciate going back to his homeland, if even for a visit, but unfortunately the man was practically exiled. Until a new ruler came into power — one not associated with his mother — Crowley would be remaining right there in his private mountain cabin.

On the plane ride back to the city, Castiel opened up his computer and began doing research on how long an alpha could go, being in contact with their child’s breeder, without it becoming _physical_ contact. The studies weren’t very promising. And when he researched alphas that _knew_ they were going to have a child, but remained as far away as possible from the omega or beta carrying the baby, he found cases where alphas had actually become physically ill from the seperation.

So completely ignoring the matter until the babies were born was not an option. He would have to see Dean and Bela on occasion to keep his alpha happy.

But he planned to make sure that he did as much as possible to keep those interactions to a minimum. Maybe he would start requiring a weekly meal where the two omegas joined him and Madelyn for dinner… that way he would have Madelyn there as well to work as a mediating presence.

Whatever the case, he was most definitely _not_ going to be spending anymore alone time with a gorgeous omega named Dean who was carrying his baby.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we're kind of on a 'once a month' schedule right now, and I do apologize. Unfortunately it's big bang season and I have like 4 of those in progress, so it's eating up a lot of time. Good news is, one will post next month!
> 
> Also... this chapter is the beginning of a very interesting arch that I did not see coming until very recently. Damn plot bunnies!

A formal invite arrived at Dean’s apartment door on Friday afternoon. 

_The King and Queen humbly request your presence tonight at dinner, promptly at seven, in the Royal dining room._

Just when his week had started to look better. He’d gone five whole days without having to deal with the king, Bela, or his brother and the other needle-wielding doctors. Hell, he hadn’t even been sick in those five days! 

As he approached his third month of pregnancy, it seemed that the morning (slash all day) sickness was starting to ease — although his brother had warned at his last visit that that could all change at the drop of a hat. 

Reluctantly, Dean got ready for dinner that night. At least the queen was nice? He had no idea what to wear, though. Was there a set attire when you were carrying one of the king’s babies?

In the end, he dressed in his nicest set of _fitting_ pants and a button down dress shirt that was starting to look a little tight around his middle. At six forty-five he stepped out of his apartment, ready to make the short walk to the elevator and then to the formal dining room… only to stop when he realized there was a guard waiting right outside his door.

The guard nodded politely and explained he was supposed to escort Dean to the dinner. He’d gotten so used to having a variety of guards at that point, that he barely even blinked. It was annoying, yes, but it wasn’t worth fighting or arguing about. So he followed along obediently to the elevator, up a floor, and then down a long extravagant hallway to where the formal dining room was. 

He was early, apparently, because the only other people in the room were kitchen staff members working to get everything set. Dean moved towards a chair, before stopping and turning to see if his guard was still there… _nope._ He looked to the nearest staff member, “I uh… where do I sit?”

“Oh!” The young woman seemed shocked by either his presence or the fact that she wasn’t normally spoken to; either way, it took her a moment to realized what he’d asked and point out a chair. “Probably there would be best. King Castiel sits at the head of the table, the Queen at his right. You and Miss Talbot would probably be best on his left.”

Dean stood behind the chair that would be on Castiel’s left for a long moment, before shaking his head. There was no way he could sit through a whole dinner between the king and Bela. Finally, when everyone else was ignoring him again, he moved around to the other side and sat in the chair that would be beside the queen. At least he knew he got along with her. And that she wouldn’t be offended by his presence. 

He was just getting comfortable in his chair, when Bela walked in and went directly to the seat on the King’s left side, without hesitating or stopping to ask, like Dean had. When she saw Dean sitting there, she immediately sneered. “What are you doing here?”

“I was _requested._ ” Dean answered, simply.

Bela huffed, like she had expected the dinner to be just her and the royal couple. Before she could express her distaste, though, the door opened and the king and queen entered the room looking both regal and casual at the same time. Castiel was in dress slacks and a nice button down shirt… with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows like he’d been busy working when someone announced dinner. Madelyn was wearing a burgundy dress that flared at the waist and stopped just below her knees. It wasn’t _quite_ formal, but also made it look like she’d put in more effort than her husband before the meal. 

The queen sat beside of Dean and reached out to squeeze his hand gently as a greeting. Before the king sat, he looked around the table and then to the lead servant standing off to his right. “Are we missing two?” he questioned.

“I believe sir—”

“We’re here.” Dean turned, surprised to see his brother and Claire, his wife, hurrying into the room. “Apologies,” Sam quickly offered, moving to sit in the chair across from Dean.

Claire moved to the chair next to Sam’s and laid her hand on her rounded stomach. “Wardrobe malfunction,” she quickly filled in. “I keep arguing with myself about being the size that I used to be, but I’m not winning that fight, apparently.”

Dean considered himself to be a fairly charismatic guy — he had never really had an issue with speaking to a variety of people that he met on the castle grounds. Unfortunately, as the formal dinner began, he found himself turning into a bit of a shadow there in his chair. It wasn’t that people weren’t _trying_ to engage him. Claire, especially, kept trying to talk to him. Probably because despite all good intentions, they hadn’t really had a chance to meet up, since he moved into the castle. 

After a while of his mostly monosyllabic answers, though, she focused her attention back on Sam and Bela. It wasn’t _her_ fault. It was the situation really. The stress of the entire evening had his stomach doing somersaults and every time they set a new course down in front of him, he bit his lip to keep from throwing up right there on the table. If anyone noticed that he hadn’t actually _ate_ anything, but simply kept moving it around to make it look like he had, they hadn’t said anything.

When the main entree was brought out, Dean stared at the large slab of meat in front of him and knew that he’d reached his limit. He covered his mouth in panic and looked around, trying to spot the nearest facilities so that he didn’t have to puke in a potted plant. 

The queen laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Down that hall, first door on the left. Broderick, will you accompany Dean, please, in case he needs anything?”

“Of course, ma’am,” the steward replied, helpfully leading Dean out of the dining room and down the hall. 

Apparently the sound of retching was too much for the man though, because he made an excuse about getting Dean some ginger ale and quickly dashed off.

In the end, thankfully, Dean didn’t actually get sick minus the initial gags. He should have sent a warning off — did they allow that? — to the kitchen earlier that day, saying that apparently he was not currently able to eat meat. Although forcing the rest of the dinner group to go vegetarian on his behalf was probably not a reasonable request.

He walked back towards the dining room, making sure to hover at the door for a moment so he could check if the main entree had been removed. Not yet, but they had to be close, so he continued to wait.

“Such a shame,” he heard Bela saying, “Dr. Sam was just telling me at my last appointment that we’re lucky only one of us got that disease Dean has. Apparently it greatly increases the risk of miscarriage?”

The king’s voice was curt, “Yes, Sam has showed us those statistics.”

“I would hate for all of this trouble to be for nothing,” Bela replied. “Although my mother was always adamant that female omegas were the best choice for conception. Did you know that as far back as only sixty years ago, it was still deemed witchcraft for a man to carry a child?”

Dean tilted his head a bit, trying to see more of Castiel than just his back, but it was impossible. All he could really see from his vantage point, was that everyone was trying hard to focus on their food, save for Bela.

“Well,” the King said, “there was reasoning behind picking both a male and female omega for this process. Better odds all around.”

“I suppose. Unless he loses the baby, of course. What were those odds, doctor? Was it seventy or eighty percent? The chance of miscarriage or stillborn?”

Dean didn’t hang around to listen for the answer. It was right about that time that he realized he was in the hallway that he had initially walked into when he arrived… which meant one quick turn and _yep_ there was the elevator.

Fuck royal dinners.

* * *

Dean didn’t return to the meal. And two weeks later when Madelyn urged Castiel to try again ( _’maybe with a little less meat?’_ ), he also didn’t show up. It was a valiant effort, to do the whole bi-weekly meet up with the omegas in a less formal environment… but Castiel was getting tired of hearing Bela’s nagging. She’d already requested completely new furniture for her apartment, because the bed was uncomfortable, the couch was an eyesore, and something about the kitchen table that Castiel had honestly stopped listening to.

The weirdest part of the whole mess was that as the pregnancies progressed, Castiel didn’t feel the same biological _pull_ towards Bela’s child, as he did Dean’s. He still felt protective, yes, but it was the same why he had felt when one of the assistants had gotten pregnant the year before — a general feeling of ‘top-alpha’ doing his job to keep his people safe.

For week three, Castiel broke down and had the invite sent only to Dean’s room. Then he immediately panicked and began pacing his office as he realized that of course Dean wouldn’t _know_ he was the only one invited, so he might still refuse to show up and what would Castiel do then?

His mild freak-out was disturbed by the office phone ringing from where it sat on his desk. He moved over quickly and answered, “Hello?”

“ _Sir._ ” Sam? Why was Sam calling? “We have an issue. One that should probably be handled as discreetly as possible.”

Castiel’s heart sank, and he suddenly remembered all of the previous conversations about Dean’s likelihood of miscarriage… “I’m in my office, if you’d like to come here.”

“Actually, would you be able to meet me on the floor below?”

* * *

Castiel ducked out of a side door and did his best to skim around the secret hallways so that he could avoid bringing his ever present security detail along for the trip. He even went so far as to take the servants’ hidden staircase, rather than any of the main routes. When he finally made it downstairs, he found Sam standing outside of the apartment door that was Dean’s. 

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked. “Is it the baby?”

“No.” Sam looked back to the door for a moment, before watching the king approach. “I haven’t heard from Dean in a while. We were supposed to have an appointment this morning to check on things. When he didn’t show up, I figured I would make a stop over on my break to see that he was okay.” Sam motioned to the door. “I haven’t touched anything.”

Castiel finally turned his attention to the door of Dean’s apartment, and that’s when he noticed that the lock had been tampered with. The metal was bent in a few spots, showing that someone had used tools to make their entrance. Castiel reached out, ready to turn the handle and open the door, but the door slid open on it’s own as soon as he placed pressure on the handle. _Suspicious._ On the floor, immediately inside, lay two perfectly sealed invites with the King’s crest on the front. He knew for a fact that dinner invites were usually slid under a door and accompanied by a brief knock. But both were still there… still untouched… so how long had Dean gone without noticing?

“Dean?” he called out, not really expecting an answer. As he stepped into the apartment, Sam stepped past him and they both quickly searched the apartment for any signs of Dean. He wasn’t there, though. In fact, there was the makings of cookies in the kitchen, one tray baked, and a bowl sitting on the counter with the rest of the raw dough inside. He stepped closer and immediately frowned at the smell of rotting eggs from the dough being left out at room temperature for too long. 

“He hasn’t been here in a while,” Sam stated, moving back out of the bedroom. Castiel turned to see Sam holding a daily pill dispenser — one that distributed tiny pre-sealed packets of the patients pills, labeled with the date and morning or evening schedule. “I got him one of these things to keep track of his vitamins. Last one taken was three weeks ago.”

Castiel felt his stomach sink, “He hasn’t been here since the dinner?”

“Day after, according to this.”

_Fuck._

He didn’t know what to do. “Someone kidnapped him.” It was obvious… if Dean had ran, there would have been more planning. He wouldn’t have left mid-cookie bake, he would have taken his pills, clothes… fuck, his shoes were by the door! “Who would kidnap Dean?”

“I can think of like… ten people, just off the top of my head.” Sam looked to the door, then back around the empty apartment. “We have a bigger problem though. If someone kidnapped Dean, odds are they knew about the baby. And only a _handful_ of people knew about the baby.”

Anger started to boil in his veins, “ _Raphael._ ”

“Possibly.”

“We need to bring in an outside source to investigate this. And for now? Don’t trust anyone. I’ll have more security put on Bela.” Castiel frowned, “She is still here, right?”

“Saw her two hours ago.”

“Then that brings up another question… if it’s about the baby, why kidnap Dean and not Bela?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it was pointed out that a chapter a month would have us finishing sometime in 2020... I am trying to up my game a little on output. Even still, this chapter was so hard to get written. My muse is being a bitch lately.
> 
> ALSO: if any of you kind readers are Stucky fans... I'll be posting my first Stucky fic on May 21st for the Captain America Reverse Big Bang. Its one of the BB's I've been so tied up with. The fic is... _very_ fluffy. And adorable! Keep on the look out for "Coffee with Almond Milk" in a couple weeks.

He was shocked to find that it was possible — especially considering the independent company that he had hired to do the investigation — but after almost a week of searching, there were no clues as to Dean’s location. Sam had sent word to his mother, checking _just in case_ to see if Dean had ranaway to see her. She hadn’t heard a thing, though, confirming their suspicions that Dean was most likely kidnapped.

So they had no clues, no answers, not even a damn ransom request… and because everything had obviously happened with the help of someone in the castle, Castiel was struggling to find someone to trust. Because of that lack of trust, he refused to tell very many people that something was wrong. Thankfully Raphael had left a few days beforehand to handle an assignment on the border — he wasn’t exactly cleared of fault, but he also wasn’t there to wonder what the hell Castiel was doing with all the people going in and out of Dean’s room. 

Not that Castiel was stupid enough to believe Raphael didn’t have men monitoring things and reporting back to him.

“Okay. What the _hell_ is up with you?”

Castiel blinked, looking up from his computer to see his wife standing across the room. He’d been locked in his office for hours, going over the different details that the forensics team had found. “What?” he asked, playing dumb as his eyes drifted back to the screen before him.

So _maybe_ he should have told Madelyn what was going on. As it stood, the only other one in the castle that knew the whole truth was Sam. He trusted his wife immensely, he really did, but it didn’t mean he knew how to explain to her what was happening. Admitting that Dean was gone felt like admitting to his own failure.

“Cas.” Madelyn moved over, pushing aside his laptop and paperwork so that she could sit on the edge of his desk, facing him. “What has happened? You haven't acted well since these damn mandatory dinners were started with the surrogates.”

Castiel slid his chair over so that Madelyn’s legs bracketed each side of his body, then he leaned forward, laying his head against her lap. “It’s such a mess, Maddy.”

Her fingers began gently carding through his hair. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, love.”

“Dean is missing.” She froze, soft movements cutting off abruptly, and Castiel waited a moment before raising his head back up to look at her. “He missed an appointment with Sam, and when we went down to check for him, it was obvious someone had interrupted whatever he was doing and… _kidnapped_ him.”

_”Shit,”_ Madelyn breathed.

“I called in an outside group to do an investigation and they haven’t found a thing. But we think he’s been gone a couple weeks…”

He saw the misery written on his wife’s face, as Madelyn whispered, “Oh Dean.”

* * *

Over the next week, something started to happen that no one had really considered. Castiel started to act both aggressively and erratically. His decision making skills were absolutely shot, and if anyone suggested an opinion contrary to his, they would be left shaking in their skin when he fought back against them verbally. It got bad enough that Madelyn called Sam to meet with them in the middle of the week.

Sam showed up looking exhausted, bags under his eyes and everything. When he sat down across from where Castiel was on the sofa, he let out a large yawn, causing Castiel to frown. He “Are we _boring you_ , Samuel? Maybe it’s time for a new lead physician.”

Madelyn walked up, flicking Castiel on the ear, before sitting down beside him. “Ignore him, Sam. This is… well, to be honest, this is the bullshit I’ve been forced to put up with this week.”

“I—” Sam yawned again, blinking a few times, then shook his head like he was trying to get rid of the exhaustion weighing him down. “Sorry. Claire had the baby a few days ago and the little guy doesn’t seem to want to let us sleep.”

At the word ‘baby’, Castiel let out a low growl. Madelyn ignored him, leaning forward to place her hand on Sam’s knee. “Why aren’t you at home, then? Sam you have a new baby to be cherishing, you shouldn’t be working!”

“I had to _escape._ Claire’s mom is staying with us for a couple weeks, to help out with things, and she’s used her ‘mom voice’ on me five times already! Who knew there was a _wrong_ way to change a diaper.” Sam pouted. “She knew. And apparently it was only a matter of time before I did it wrong…”

Castiel stood suddenly, nervous energy causing him to pace the floor like a caged animal.

After a moment of watching him, Sam seemed to wake up enough to realize why he was there. Sam motioned at the king, but looked back to Madelyn, “How long has he been acting like this?”

“About a week. He’s fired three staff members and threatened _war_ on our allies… thankfully that part was done in private. I’d hate to think how they would react if they knew.”

“Those bastards don’t deserve our help!” Castiel called from the other side of the room.

Madelyn sighed. “He’s insufferable, Sam. What is going on?”

“I think he’s in rut.”

“Impossible. He isn’t due for another two weeks! And he doesn’t get like this — Castiel in rut is _needy._ Loving, cuddly… horny as fuck. Not this overly aggressive asshole.”

“I’m your _king_ and I can hear you!”

“I have to—” Sam pulled out his computer tablet and began quickly searching through topics. It took him a few minutes of research to find what he was looking for, harder still because of Castiel in the corner _huffing_ and growling as he picked up and tossed aside various books from the large shelf. Finally, Sam found what he was looking for and began reading aloud, “‘In the case of soulmates, an alpha in rut without his mate will turn overly aggressive.’ It also says that early ruts can be triggered by the absence of said mate. It’s a biological response that the body initiates to drive the alpha back to his mate. _Worsened_ , apparently, when said mate is pregnant.”

“Well that’s a bunch of horseshit,” Castiel stated, walking back over and dropping onto his previous spot with a huff. “Soulmates are fake nonsense that the early churches came up with to keep people from divorcing.”

“They’ve done scientific tests on patients in Europe, and the right chemistry make-up between an alpha and an omega can in fact create a bond not unlike a ‘soulmate’ would be described as. They can’t necessarily feel each other on a telepathic level, but when one mate is without the other for long periods of time, they start to react. They also have increased immune systems when surrounded by their mate’s scent on a day-to-day basis.”

Madelyn frowned, reaching out to brush Castiel’s hair out of his face. As soon as she touched him, he jerked away. “Well that explains a lot. I’m guessing that whole mess also makes the alpha react negatively to omegas other than their mate?”

“It doesn’t say that here, but it would make sense. On a strictly primal level, his alpha is telling him to protect and seek out the omega carrying his offspring. In order to keep that desire there, it would shut out any attraction to other omegas.”

Castiel was up and pacing again, causing Madelyn to sigh and look down at her hands. “Why isn’t he reacting like this to Bela? If his body wants him to protect his offspring, wouldn’t he be making more of an effort to spend time with her?”

Sam looked up from his tablet and shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of two omega’s carrying the same alpha’s offspring at the same time. Usually instinct keeps it from happening.”

* * *

Madelyn had taken to sleeping in the guest bedroom down the hallway. It wasn’t really her fault or his fault… as Sam had so clearly explained, everything was _instinctual_. But that didn’t really help the fact that every time his wife was near, Castiel would quickly put space between them, or — if forced to be close for long periods of time — start growling under his breath. 

When she had kissed him one night, out of habit, he had actually tried to _bite_ her. 

Sam’s only answer, aside from the obvious one of finding Dean and bringing him back, was for Castiel to spend more time with Bela. The theory being that if Castiel’s alpha was upset because his offspring was missing, maybe it would find the other child in Bela’s scent and be calmed by her presence.

There was one glaring problem with that theory… his alpha couldn’t stand to be around Bela, either.

He attempted it, because anything was better than walking around the castle like a dumb knothead, but found that there was a strange difference in Bela’s scent. There was still a hint of familial scent there, underlying the scent marker that was purely omega and Bela, but it didn’t strike the same possessiveness like he had felt with Dean. The more time he spent around her, the more his brain started to tell him that something was definitely off.

But then he’d think about it more, alone at night time, and realize it was probably just the extended rut at the fact that he didn’t feel for Bela the way he had for Dean. There had to be some connection with the raised chemistry levels and his alpha’s happiness.

Whatever the case, spending time with Bela was absolutely futile and just irritated him more, so Castiel stopped after only two short visits. He’d rather deal with his aggressiveness on his own.

* * *

_Castiel felt like a wild animal. His pulse was racing and sweat beaded on his forehead as he slowly traced down the hallways of the large building. He was chasing a scent, like the alpha’s of lore who had to chase down their omegas before finally claiming them. He bounded down another staircase, seeing red as he pushed open a door and the scent got stronger._

__Omega. _His omega! Close, but still out of sight. He whined from the back of his throat. Dean. He needed Dean. Where was Dean?_

_There was a soft mewling sound coming from the room to his left and when he heard it, all clear thought seemed to move even farther out of reach. He slammed into the door hard enough to crack the wall and send the door flying open and bouncing off the wall behind it. The scent hit him almost immediately, wafting into his senses and overwhelming everything else. “Dean,” he growled, laying his eyes on the omega for the first time._

_Dean was on his knees on the bed, head laying against his folded arms as he fucking_ presented _like the good little omega Castiel knew him to be._

_The noise Castiel made was nothing short of animalistic, and he shredded his clothes completely in an effort to get inside of that sweet dripping hole._

_“Please, alpha,” Dean begged._

_Castiel didn’t let his omega beg any longer than necessary. He pressed forward in one move, burying himself in the sweet silky heat of Dean’s hole. “Fuck, you feel so good. This what you wanted? Need my knot, pretty omega?”_

_“Please! Yes!”_

_His body moved with force as his nails dug into the skin at Dean’s hips, keeping the rhythm perfectly timed. As he felt himself spiraling towards completion — too soon and yet not soon enough — he gripped onto Dean’s hair and pulled the omega upright. One more slide and he was there, knot catching on Dean’s hole and keeping him buried completely as he filled his omega up. As the feelings rushed through him, he bent his head and sank his teeth into the base of Dean’s neck, setting his claim and tying himself to Dean forever._

_“Mine!” he cried out with a howl._

* * *

He wasn’t sure if it was the howl leaving his body, or the rush of semen entering his boxers, but Castiel jolted awake in his bed. He looked around the room in confusion, suddenly torn up over the dream that had felt so real he could practically taste Dean’s blood on his lips.

_What the fuck!_

He ran a shaking hand over his face and back through his hair, before shoving the blankets aside and looking down at the mess he’d made in his underwear. As he reached to pull the cloth back from his dick, just the slightest touch of the back of his hand had his knot pulsing and caused his whole body to shiver in the wake of another orgasm.

_Holy fuck._ He hadn’t been able to pop a knot without a tight hole surrounding it since he was fifteen! Apparently whatever weird rut he was going through, was fully capable of making him experience all the symptoms, and not just the aggressive ones.

He collapsed back in the bed, remembering how Dean had looked presented out before him, as he reached down to wrap his hand around his knot.

He couldn't help imagining what it would be like if it was Dean's hand rather than his own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter? We will find out what happened to that rascally rabbit named Dean.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have hit the 1/4 mark! Yay *cheers* how about a big surprise and an early update, eh?

Dean sat on a worn out mattress in the corner of a — to put it nicely — square cell. It was really just a concrete room, with a side room big enough to house a toilet and a small sink. He’d been there for a week, at least. Long enough to feel like he was going insane. There was a small window above the bed, letting in just enough sunlight to make it possible to see the transition from day to night. Unfortunately he didn’t really have a way of marking down those transitions, and after about day five, lost track of time.

He didn't know why he was there. The last thing he could clearly remember was standing in his apartment kitchen and making cookies that he had a sudden craving for. Considering the headache he’d woken up with, it was obvious that someone had knocked him out with a good blow to the back of the head. Who that somebody was, though, was still a complete mystery. Sometimes he would hear voices from beyond the steel door, but never loud enough to distinguish words. And though meals were arriving like clockwork twice a day, they arrived through a slot at the base of the door and he never actually saw who brought the food. Water, unfortunately, was provided from the sink in the makeshift bathroom where a solitary plastic cup sitting next to it.

Dean had gone over a million different scenarios of what was going to happen, and why he had been taken… most of which revolved around the child he was carrying. If the kidnappers knew that his baby was the king’s child… yeah, he was pretty fucking doomed.

* * *

“We finally got word from the castle.” The older woman moved into the heart of the home and sat down at the kitchen table. “The child downstairs is definitely the king’s.”

Across from the woman sat her son, his fingers tracing slowly along the condensation of a glass of water. “I don’t understand how they know for certain.”

“Ignorant boy! I told you, when an alpha is away from his pregnant omega, he will start to act irrationally. We had to make sure the insemination was handled as planned, and they didn’t switch the samples.” The woman took a deep breath and finally smiled. “Everything is going exactly as we planned. Now… I’ve brought the vials for you. I want you to start slowly adding them into the omega’s meal. By the end of the week, we will no longer have to worry about the child, and we can be done with this mess.”

Another man finally spoke from his spot in the kitchen, where he was watching. His voice was deep and held the slightest hints of darkness… “I don’t understand why we can’t just kill the omega too.”

“Because we aren’t here to create a martyr! If the king learns of the omega’s death, he will hunt us down. Losing an unborn child by a seemingly accidental case is one thing… but a _murder_ will require action and vengeance.”

“Such a pity…”

The woman looked to her son. “You will keep up with the meals as you have been, understood? Call me as soon as the blood hits him, and someone will come help take care of clean-up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man nodded, eyes still looking away from her penetrating gaze.

* * *

Dean didn’t particularly sleep well on the thin mattress. His back hurt almost constantly and it was hard to find a comfortable position to rest in. It made going to sleep one of his least favorite times of the day.

Which was why he knew something was wrong when he ate his second meal of the day and suddenly felt a bit lightheaded and tired. _Shit._ He immediately laid back on the mattress and held his head. Why hadn’t he realized they would eventually resort to putting some kind of drugs in his food.

As his eyelids got heavier, and he heard the steel door sliding open, all he could think about was how sorry he would be if something happened to his child. Sure, he hadn’t been particularly excited about the whole mess in the beginning… but as the pregnancy had progressed, and he had felt those first butterfly flutters of movement, he had actually grown excited about the prospect of seeing the baby. Even if he wouldn’t be the ‘parent’. 

“Shh, sleep,” a voice whispered.

Dean tried to blink his eyes back open so that he could see his captor… but it was a futile attempt, as he finally gave into the heavy feeling weighing him down.

* * *

When Dean woke the next time, he was in a comfortable bed, surrounded by plush cushions and the softest blankets he'd ever felt in his life. He blinked a few slow times, before rising up so that he was sitting on the bed looking at his surroundings. 

It was… just a bedroom. Simple, with a bed and a dresser of plain oak. The walls were a soft green color with white trim. Everything seemed so… _normal._

He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, letting the sheets fall away and reveal the soft sleep pants and worn out t-shirt that he was wearing. So… apparently someone had _dressed_ him. Which would be more upsetting if he wasn't so relieved to be out of that damn dungeon room. Dean stood, glancing down at the slight protrusion of his stomach. It made him smile, despite everything.

It also made him need to piss… and unlike the dungeon, his current room didn't have attached facilities. He padded over to the door, bare feet enjoying the plush carpet. When he tried the door handle, he expected it to be locked but instead it opened easily and he was suddenly staring at a hallway that led towards a simple looking living room. Instead of following that direction, though, he cut across the hallway to the open door that he could tell led to a bathroom.

A couple minutes later he stepped back out, trying to be as quiet as possible as he snuck down the hallway. He didn’t know what to expect, and he didn’t want to surprise some idiot kidnapper holding a gun. The living room was empty, but to the left was an eat in kitchen and suddenly he could smell _bacon._

He noticed the person standing at the stove cooking… and his body only relaxed a _little._ “Jack?” Why was Jack there? Had Jack _kidnapped_ him? What the fuck!

The younger man looked over, wearing that shy smile that Dean hated himself for finding adorable. “Hey Dean.”

Dean looked around the small house, wondering if he should run or wait for an explanation. Jack had always seemed fairly harmless, but that didn’t mean much if he was there at that moment. “Why?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Jack replied. He moved to his right and pulled down two plates from an upper cabinet, before dishing up a scoopful of scrambled eggs and a few slices of bacon on each plate. Once he was done, he shut off the stove burners and carried the plates over to the table. Dean, since there was no one else in the house, assumed the second plate was for him and moved over to sit in one of the chairs. “Juice, water, or milk?” Jack asked.

“ _Juice._ ” He’d been stuck with only water for way too long.

Jack brought two glasses and a jug of apple juice over to the table, before sitting down across from Dean. They ate a few bites of food before Jack finally spoke up, “I um… I wasn’t the one that took you from the castle. But I was around the people who did, at the last place. They decided they were going to kill your baby and I just… I couldn’t let it happen. So I got you out of there.”

Dean took a breath, because he had a million questions, but he also couldn’t decide which one to get to first. “Where are we now?”

Jack glanced around for a moment, before answering. “My brother’s place in the city.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded. “After breakfast I’ll find a bus back to the castle, so that no one knows you were involved. I’ll tell them I escaped.”

“You can’t!”

He liked Jack, he really did, but he was _not_ going to go back to being someone’s captive. He wouldn’t risk his child’s life for that. “I can, and I will.”

Jack shook his head and his eyes were wide, _pleading._ “No, I mean, you _can’t._ They still have people in the castle. If you show up there again, this will just start over. Only this time, they know that it’s your baby that needs to die, so they won’t hesitate to just poison you or some shit and call it good.”

His hands moved protectively to his stomach. “Know it’s my baby? What is the difference between my baby and Bela’s? Did they kidnap her too?”

“No. Her baby has a different father.”

Now _that_ was new information. “What? Since when?”

“Since the beginning!”

Dean frowned. “Does Sam know about that?”

“No,” Jack shook his head once more, “I don’t think he’s involved. I never heard his name come up.” He took a deep breath. “All I know is this: there was only supposed to be one surrogate, so when suddenly there was two, they didn’t have time to trade out both samples. It took a couple months before they were able to prove which child was the king’s, and then they knew which one they had to get rid of.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“They call themselves the Men of Letters… which I never quite understood, because their leader is a woman. But yeah. Their goal is to cleanse the current royal bloodline.”

* * *

After all of that, it really wasn’t much of a shock that Dean ended up throwing up what little bit of breakfast he’d managed to eat. He made an excuse that he needed to lay down afterwards and carried Jack’s offered cup of water into the bedroom and shut and locked the door (from the _inside_ ). His intention was to just lay down and relax for a while — give himself time to digest everything that he had learned over breakfast. Of course, as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out like a light.

When he woke up for the second time, the room was dark and he realized for the first time that there was a large window behind the headboard. Sitting up, he pulled back the curtains so that he could look out at the surroundings. 

Okay, so, _house_ hadn’t been an accurate statement. Apparently it was a high-rise apartment, because he had to be at least seven stories up, with a few of the city lights sparkling in the night sky. 

It was… nice, actually. His apartment at the castle looked east towards the mountains, so he never really got to see the city at night time. He sat there watching for the longest time, enjoying it much more than he would expect to. After a while, though, his stomach let out a loud rumble in protest of the lack of food. He rubbed a hand over his tiny bump and stood, “Okay, little bean, we will find food.”

Outside of his room, the living room and kitchen were still lit up, but like before… he took a quick detour to the bathroom first. Unlike before, there was no food being prepared as he finally started walking out to the main living area. In fact, the whole place was incredibly quiet. He turned the corner into the kitchen, about ready to call out for Jack, when he someone hunched over a book with a cup of steaming tea next to them, sitting at the table.

Dean literally _gasped_ out loud. It was… but it _wasn’t._ “Um—” There was no denying the similarity in bone structure, even from a profile view, but the hair was longer, brushing over firm shoulders and… _curly._ At the sound of Dean squeaking in shock, the man turned and yup. “Holy shit.”

“You must be Dean,” the man greeted. His voice wasn’t as deep, nor as formal, but the _face._

“Holy. _Shit._ ”

“I—”

“You!”

“Listen, Dean, I can explain—”

“ _Holy shit._ ”

The man stood, leaving his book and tea on the table and walking across the room with an outstretched hand. “Let’s start over, shall we? My name is Jimmy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE SCREAM AT ME IN THE COMMENTS. <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit longer than others. I started with this goal of 2.5k chapter length and then the last few I fell short of that goal, so to get back on track, this was forced to fill in the missed words. 
> 
> (Also I've not allowed myself to go see Ant-Man & The Wasp until this thing was posted. I hate myself sometimes.)

“Jimmy.”

“Yes?”

“Are you…”

“The king’s twin brother? Yes.”

Dean collapsed into the kitchen chair, shock coursing through his system. He had spent his whole life learning about the royal family; since he was the same age as Castiel, school had always consisted of discussions about what the prince would be doing at that moment… how the prince would be learning in comparison to how they were learning. “How?” Dean finally managed to ask, looking back up at Jimmy.

Jimmy had taken a seat back where he had been, moving his book aside and taking a sip of his tea before he answered. “I believe it’s a lot like the situation you’re in.”

“Impossible. The science wasn’t available thirty years ago—”

“Oh no, but the old King had no problem with just fucking whomever he wanted. So when the queen wasn’t getting pregnant, the King found someone else. Only his advisors told him the people might not respect an heir born out of wedlock, so they had to buy my mother’s silence. When she found out she was having twins… there was only one form of payment she would accept.”

Dean laid a hand on his stomach and realized that whoever Jimmy’s mother was, she’d made a choice that Dean had already given up. “She kept you.”

“The King’s people weren’t very happy about it, especially his head of security, but she swore that on her life and mine, no one would ever find out about my existence.” Jimmy stood suddenly, moving across the kitchen to get a second cup of tea for Dean. Once he set the cup down in front of Dean, he frowned, “Do you need honey? Its caffeine free so fine for the baby.”

Dean stared at the cup for a moment, not the most regular of tea drinkers. “Honey would be nice.”

Jimmy moved back to grab the little bear shaped bottle of golden liquid, before handing it over as he took his seat again. “I was waiting for you to wake before I ordered dinner. Thought you might like some pizza.”

“Ohhhh!” Everyone that lived on the hill had heard stories about delivery pizza… but anything made at the castle was apparently ‘not the same’. “We can do that?”

“Of course.”

Jimmy picked up a computer tablet and tapped at it for a few minutes in silence as Dean watched patiently. Until a thought occurred… “Doesn’t the delivery person ask questions? About your appearance?”

“Sometimes.” Jimmy didn’t look up as he answered, “But a lot of people have only seen the king in official paintings and blurry photographs… never a clear shot to know that he and I look the same. Plus,” Jimmy motioned to his hair, long and curly against his shoulders, “the King couldn’t pull this off if he tried.”

It made sense, Dean supposed. And of all of the people that would probably ‘recognize’ Jimmy… some kid delivering pizzas was probably not going to be it. “So Jack?”

“Half-brother.”

“Explains why he also looks so much like Castiel.”

“Yup.”

* * *

Jack didn’t come back that night. As Jimmy explained during dinner… Jack lived elsewhere and in order to keep Dean safe, had to stay away so that no one realized where Dean was hiding out. When Dean laid back down in the bed that he had awoken in, his mind was a flurry of different emotions. He didn’t know how the next few days were going to play out. Wasn’t sure how things were going to go, staying with Jimmy. But Castiel’s brother seemed nice enough, hadn’t raised his voice once and had answered all of Dean’s questions without hesitation or prejudice.

There was still an unease that settled into Dean’s bones, though, something that he couldn’t explain and even if he could… he wasn’t sure there was really a word for it.

That being said, going ‘home’ wasn’t an option (or so he was told) and so the days at Jimmy’s apartment began to settle into something of a norm. Jimmy worked at a local art gallery restoring paintings because _’art doesn’t know who I am,’_ and left Dean to his own devices while he was gone. Which was, to put it frankly, boring as _fuck._ Dean watched television and played on Jimmy’s tablet until he was bored out of his mind, and then started _(secretly)_ taking walks in the local areas around Jimmy’s apartment.

He didn’t want to go too far and risk getting lost (or — _haha_ — kidnapped), but he also knew it was good for his pregnant body to get exercise and sunshine. Especially since he was still struggling to keep extra vitamins and full meals down.

The benefit of Jimmy’s apartment was he suddenly had a calendar to track how long he’d been gone for. After he’d been at Jimmy’s for a couple of weeks, they were eating dinner one night when his eyes caught sight of the calendar hanging on the front of the fridge and he actually _confirmed_ with the other man, “Is that the right date?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.”

_Two months._ He had no idea how long he’d been at the first place, but it had officially been two months since his last appointment with his brother. He looked down at the blossomed bump of his stomach. He was six months pregnant. _Holy fuck!_

That night he went to bed early, feeling a bone-deep weariness. The next day — he got out of bed only long enough to pee before he was collapsing back into the sheets. The depression seemed to settle over him like a thick blanket, making every movement slow and painful. He didn’t want to eat… just wanted to sleep until he woke up and was no longer stuck in a place he hated. It wasn’t even that Jimmy’s apartment was a particularly bad environment, hell, he wasn’t sure he hated being _there_ , when he said he hated the place he was stuck in. It was more so the entire situation. Pregnant. Longing for someone he barely even knew.

He stayed mopey and miserable for seven whole days before Jimmy burst into his room one morning and opened the blinds. “Come on. I know it’s hard, but I need you to shower and eat… we’ve got to take a trip downtown.”

“I’m not—”

“Hungry, I know. But the baby is, even if you aren’t. I got some protein powder you can mix into a smoothie if you want. Just something small for now and we’ll find dinner downtown. Something will whet your appetite.”

Dean highly doubted that fact, but the look that Jimmy was giving him told him that he had no choice in the matter. Jimmy was going and Dean was going with him — end of story. 

He grumbled the entire time throughout showering and getting ready. His stomach was _huge_ , his back _hurt_ , and why the fuck were his feet twice their normal size? When he finally got into the kitchen, Jimmy shoved a protein smoothie at him with a smile and a quick ‘drink up.’

It tasted fucking disgusting, and he tried not to throw up after every single swallow, but he somehow managed to get the whole thing down. When he had, Jimmy passed a coat his way, pulled a ballcap onto his own head, and suddenly they were off.

* * *

They did some walking and exploring around the city for a bit, before Jimmy steered them towards a nice hotel on the waterfront. Dean tried to bite back his suspicions about what exactly was happening. Yes, the fresh air was helping to improve his mood a bit, but no part of that made him want to go exploring a _hotel_ with Jimmy. He felt a little nervous, but allowed Jimmy to press him forward into the surprisingly busy hotel lobby.

Finally, as they moved into a line of people waiting to go into a ballroom, Dean frowned and gave into his curiosity, “What are we doing?”

“Friend of mine got me tickets to this event. Big shindig and dinner for local leaders and media types.” They passed into the entrance of the ballroom, where most people were dressed to the nines to impress the folks they were mingling with and suddenly Dean felt both out of place and sorely underdressed. 

And fat. He felt fat.

Instead of moving him into the main area of the room where most of the people were congregating, Jimmy held lightly onto Dean’s elbow and moved him towards the back of the room, finding a table in the farthest corner that most people seemed to be ignoring because of its seclusion. When Dean had sat down in the chair that Jimmy motioned to, Jimmy pointed across the room to the large buffet set up. “I’m going to grab some snacks. Hang out here, okay?”

“Why—”

“I promise it’ll make sense soon, just relax?”

_Relax._ In a room filled with stuffy people that all seemed to be going for the award of biggest ass kisser, judging by the way they talked to each other. Relax? No, Dean would _relax_ if he was back in his bedroom in Jimmy’s apartment where he could go back to wallowing in a thick blanket of depression.

While Jimmy was gone, someone took to the stage and began making introductions and urging people to find their seats once they had some refreshments in hand. Then it all got very political and Dean tuned out, his fingers tracing the floral pattern of the tablecloth.

Why were they there? Dean wanted to leave. His feet hurt. His back hurt. And he had to _pee._

Actually, that last one was suddenly his main concern. He looked around, feeling a bit frantic as he tried to spot where Jimmy had gone, but the other man was nowhere in sight around the crowded room.

He spotted a side hallway to his right, the opposite side of the room from the main entrance, and hoped and prayed that it meant _bathroom._ Standing and doing a very pregnant variation of a waddle and a ‘potty dance’... Dean made his way to the hallway only to find that it was some kind of service hallway for the staff of the hotel. He was just about to turn back around and find a bathroom out the main entrance of the ballroom, when he spotted the bathroom sign at the end of the hall. _Yes!_

Fuck the hotel staff. If they found him and complained, he would pee on their shoes. 

He scurried down to the bathroom and shut himself into one of the stalls instead of using the urinal because his _belly_ meant a complete lack of aiming ability. When he had finished, he was just about to leave the stall when a smell tickled his nose and he suddenly realized that the nagging headache he’d felt for weeks… was _gone._ He felt equal parts clear-headed and some version of his normal self and… that was odd. He stepped out of the stall and moved to the sink, still pondering over what kind of scent a hotel would use that would suddenly start to make him feel better… when there was movement behind him and Dean noticed that he wasn’t alone. He looked up into the bathroom mirror and his breath caught.

_That wasn’t Jimmy._ The blue eyes were familiar, but there was no way Jimmy had cut his hair in the twenty minutes they’d been apart. 

Dean gripped the edge of the sink and felt his knees getting weak as he continued to stare at those bright blue eyes in the mirror’s reflection.

_’I promise it’ll make sense soon,’_ Jimmy had said.

Dean whimpered, ducking his head and breathing deeply to catch as much of that delicious scent as he could. He felt more than saw as Castiel stepped closer, and his whole body began to shake. 

“You’re here,” the king whispered, voice sounding as shaky as Dean felt.

The lightest, faintest, of touches landed on Dean’s shoulder, as if Castiel was really proving to himself that Dean was there and not just a mirage… but that one touch was all it took for Dean to lose it. He turned in a rush and wrapped himself around Castiel, burying his face in the crook of the king’s neck to breath in his scent at the source, and dug his fingers into the well-tailored suit because he was certain if he let his grip go, he would be back in that prison of depression and loneliness.

“Dean.”

“Not yet,” he pleaded, burrowing closer. It was hard to imagine that a few weeks back he had honestly _hated_ the man. The feeling was probably still there, but it was definitely overshadowed by pregnancy hormones and whatever the time spent apart had done to his senses. “Please, don’t go yet.”

“Where have you been, Dean? We’ve searched. Everyone swore you ran.”

He shook his head, mumbling against Castiel’s skin because honestly that scent was the only thing holding him together at that point. “I was in a basement for a while. People took me… kept me locked up. Something about making sure this baby was yours. I’m in a better place now, but if I go back to the castle, they’ll have us killed.”

“‘Us’?”

“The baby. Me.”

Dean felt a hand skim down his body to rest against his swollen stomach. He wanted to explain more to Castiel, but wasn’t sure the words would make sense… or even if he had it all right in his head. Some parts he knew, other parts he was assuming.

Lips brushed against the side of his face, trailed slowly to his ear. “I would never let them hurt you.”

He wanted to take the king at his word and go home. But there were obviously players working against them that had a stronghold in the castle — otherwise, how would Dean have so easily been kidnapped from his own damn apartment? Someone was working with security; someone had _ways_ around being found out, right there in one of the safest locations in their nation!

“You can’t promise that,” he finally said. Because he knew it was the truth.

Castiel huffed. “Dean, I can’t just walk away from here not knowing where you’ll be or whether or not you’ll be safe!” The king took in a sharp breath. “Or when I’ll see you both again—”

Dean finally managed to make himself pull away so that he could see the other man’s eyes once more. They were still touching, of course, but the need to have Castiel’s scent overwhelming his senses had dwindled. He took a moment to gain control of his thoughts, and gently reached down to remove Castiel’s hand from his stomach.

“We are safe, for now. I would suggest that… before the baby is born, you find out where the issues lie in your castle. Something is amiss, and even if we came back after the baby’s born, there would still be a risk if things aren’t fixed.”

“I—” Castiel cut off his argument and ducked his head with a gentle nod. “You’re right.”

Any further discussion was cut off by the sound of a knock on the bathroom door. It opened a moment later, and someone wearing a hotel uniform and looking nervously behind themselves, stepped in. Dean had no idea who the man was, and judging by the king’s face, neither did he. But the man nodded at both of them and kept a firm grip on the doorknob. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but this is all of the time I can offer you. Anything further would cause suspicion.”

The king frowned, stepping between the unfamiliar man and Dean. “I don’t understand.”

“This meeting was set up, to allow the two of you a moment together. But that moment has passed.”

Castiel looked like he wanted to argue, but instead shook himself and turned back to Dean. “I will find answers. For both of you.”

Dean nodded, took one last deep breath, and moved around Castiel to exit the bathroom. The hotel worker pointed to the right end of the hallway, away from the ballroom. “He’s waiting for you through those doors,” the man explained. _Jimmy._ Had to be. 

“Thank you.” One last glance over his shoulder at the king, and Dean was moving down the hallway towards the exit. Jimmy was indeed waiting on the other side of the door, and as they silently walked through the hotel lobby towards the main doors to leave, Dean could hear cheering from the ballroom as the king was welcomed on stage.

* * *

They didn’t talk on the walk home. Dean had a lot of things going on in his mind and he wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to say them all. Once they got back to Jimmy’s apartment, Dean changed into a clean pair of pajamas and walked out to the kitchen, happily accepting the bowl of oatmeal that Jimmy placed before him to eat.

He was two bites in, when he looked across the table at the other man and finally asked, “What was that?”

Jimmy took a moment before responding. “There is a prevailing scientific theory that omegas and alphas who are kept apart, after conceiving a child together, will start to show signs of what people call ‘broken bond syndrome’... essentially you are pregnant, and your child is telling your body to stay close to it’s alpha. It’s a genetic and biological compulsion. So when you are away from the child’s alpha for an extended period of time, you start to show a variety of symptoms like lack of appetite, major depression, even going so far as to be physically _ill_. At the same time, alphas become overly aggressive and lash out at pretty much everyone except betas. Other alphas make them angry, and other omegas make them sad, so they’re on a continuous roller coaster of emotion.” Jimmy looked up at him, “But the effects are suddenly reversed after just fifteen minutes of time spent around each other’s scent markers. And scientists have confirmed that the omega doesn’t even need to come into full contact with the alpha, if they can smell something drenched strongly enough in their scent.”

_Holy shit._ “So the way I’ve been feeling—”

“All a part of being away from the alpha father.”

That explained his instant reaction to being close to Castiel. If he could have bottled that scent up and kept it, he would have. Dipped his pillow in it, maybe. “So this whole ‘suddenly feeling better’ thing isn’t going to last, is it?”

Jimmy sighed, “Unfortunately not. And the king isn’t planning any other local events in the next few weeks, so I’m afraid that we are stuck for the time being.”

He was not looking forward to that feeling of hopelessness settling into his bones again. There was another issue that had also been haunting him. “I should…” he frowned. “I should see a doctor at some point. They were so strict about making sure things were on track with the baby and now it’s been weeks… what if something is wrong? Especially with all of this other stuff added on.”

“Right.” Jimmy scratched at his shaggy hair for a moment, before nodding. “There is a free clinic a few blocks away. I’ll get off work early some time this week and we’ll go over and check on things, how does that sound?”

Dean found himself gently rubbing at his extended stomach. It was probably also a product of biology that suddenly he was feeling a lot more connected to the child growing within him. It didn’t help that there was always an aching fear in the back of his mind that even if he found a way back to the castle… his child would eventually be taken away, no matter what.

Some sane part of his brain couldn’t help but think that he should just… _run._ Head south along the coast while he had the chance and while people thought he had been kidnapped. Would he make it past the border? 

The idea of running made him anxious, which was probably also a product of whatever was happening to him the longer he stayed away from the king. It would probably get even worse, if he tried to leave town, but that didn’t stop the thought from nagging at him.

“Yeah,” he finally whispered, “that works.” He’d rather see his brother; but if a free clinic doctor was all he got as proof that his child was still well, then he would happily take it. “Think I’m going to go back to bed now. My back is starting to hurt again.” He stood up and made it halfway out of the kitchen area, before he stopped and turned back to Jimmy. “Thank you for today. I know it probably took a lot of effort to set that all up, but I definitely needed it, so thanks.”

“I wish I could do more, Dean. We had hoped that my scent marker would be close enough to Castiel’s to make you more comfortable… but apparently your little one knows better. So we will just keep doing what we can, okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. _You should run,_ that voice whispered. “Goodnight Jimmy.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a comment from a not-so-pleasant person named Deana on the last chapter, woefully telling me how slow I write.
> 
> So this one is for you, Deana. 
> 
> Warnings for: _lots of pain._ Emotional pain. Minor character death. (SEE END NOTES FOR SPECIFICS)
> 
> All of this is based on true events that happened to my nephew, Zachary. (04/08/01-04/10/01)

They made a trip to the clinic, as Jimmy had promised, and the doctor on staff assured Dean that everything was going as well as could be expected. The baby seemed to be developing at a normal pace without issue, making Dean feel much more relaxed about the whole thing. On the way back to Jimmy’s apartment, they stopped off at a farmer’s market and Jimmy motioned for Dean to buy whatever he wanted for the week ahead. Dean had been on a bit of a fruits and veggies kick, when his stomach was cooperating (when it wasn’t, he lamented and allowed Jimmy to shove a protein shake at him). 

They carried three bags of food back to the apartment and for that moment, everything seemed almost… _good._

That should have been a definite sign that it wasn’t going to last.

A week later, he started experiencing the melancholy and depression from before and his darkened room started to seem nicer and nicer. He spent about a week living like a caveman in his room, before the pain started. According to the clinic doctor, he was just shy of seven months and could start experiencing random aches and pains in his lower back and hips. 

Suddenly he couldn’t make it out of bed for a completely different reason. 

On a Monday, he spent the entire day tossing and turning uncomfortably in bed, his back screaming out in agony whenever he had to shift his position, before he started to wonder if maybe what he was experiencing wasn’t the ‘normal’ that the doctor had warned him about. When he finally heard the front door opening and closing — signaling Jimmy’s return from work — he shifted into a sitting position and made an effort to stand up so he could go ask the other man about it.

He made it about two feet to the door, before his stomach cramped up and he was doubled over and crying out in pain. It was enough to make Jimmy come running, and a moment later the door was thrown open and Jimmy stared at him in worry. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Hurts. Hurts _really_ bad,” he managed, voice strained and barely more than a whisper.

“We need to get you to the doctors. Can you walk?” Dean shook his head — movement was not going to be possible. Jimmy sighed, but pulled out his cellphone, “I’m going to send the damn ambulance bill to my brother.”

* * *

Over the course of six months, Dean had spent a lot of time avoiding the idea of labor. It was, to an extent, easier for male omegas (considering they got the joy of a cesarean delivery instead of the alternative), but despite everything — contractions still hurt like fucking _hell._

The ambulance delivered Dean and Jimmy to a local hospital in the city, where after a quick examination (and lie about Jimmy being the father), Dean was rushed in for an emergency c-section because of fear of something being wrong with the baby. He was too far into the labor process to avoid delivery, according to the experts.

Thankfully, they knocked him out for the surgery and he didn’t get a lot of time to stress over the fact that he was having the baby _wayyyy_ too early.

When he woke up again, he was in a small hospital room with Jimmy sitting in the chair next to his bed… and no baby in sight. “Jimmy?”

Jimmy looked up from his tablet, his face completely unreadable. His voice was a bit broken, though, when he whispered back a soft, “Hey.”

“What happened?” he asked, struggling to sit up despite the lingering pain.

Jimmy turned away. “You uh… you became a father.”

 _Shit._ Dean fell back against the bed and closed his eyes. “What. Happened.”

“She’s in the neonatal unit right now… she’s really small, Dean,” he whispered. “Really small.”

He blinked. “But she’s alive?” _She._ A girl? Imagine the reaction of the kingdom if they found out the king’s firstborn was a girl…

“She’s really small,” Jimmy repeated. “They rushed her directly onto life support, but have scheduled her for surgery in a couple hours to try and fix an issue with her heart.”

Dean felt like he was going to be sick. “I want to see her.”

* * *

Over the next hour, the doctor’s cleared Dean to carefully be rolled in a wheelchair down to the NICU. From there, he went through a process of intense hand scrubbing, before a nurse pushed his chair through the rows of incubators until they stopped in front of one with a name tag reading “Baby Girl Winchester” on the front of the plastic box. Inside, hooked up to numerous tubes and wires, was the smallest baby Dean had seen in his life. Her eyes were covered with a soft fabric eye mask, and the tubes practically dwarfed her small body.

The nurse showed him how to stick his hand through a hole in the incubator wall, so that he could hold onto his daughter’s hand, before she left him be and told him to call if he needed her.

Dean reached in, fingertip gently running over his daughter’s small hand. “Hello, princess,” he whispered.

He sat there long enough for his body to start to ache, but refused to leave her side. Eventually a doctor walked over, bracketed by two nurses, and began to explain to Dean about the surgery that they were going to be performing. Jimmy, being the assumed alpha, had already signed off on the paperwork while Dean was still asleep, so they were mostly just letting Dean know what would be happening, before they took her away. 

Dean whispered a goodbye to his princess and tried to bite back tears as a nurse rolled him back to his room.

“They’ll let you know as soon as the surgery is complete,” she told him, once he was settled back in bed.

He couldn’t stand to fake niceties with the woman, so he continued to stare at the wall until she had left him alone — who knew where Jimmy had gone — and once the door was shut, he allowed his emotions to get the best of him and began to cry.

* * *

Remarkably, the baby survived the surgery and though her first night was a bit touch and go… by the second morning it looked like she was doing better than everyone expected. Jimmy showed back up after going to get a quick meal, and spent most of the night sleeping in the chair by Dean’s side. The next morning, Dean urged the nurses to wheel him back down to the NICU so he could see his princess. 

After going through the wash-up routine, Dean anxiously awaited the journey to where his daughter’s incubator sat. One of her nurses — a dark-skinned woman that had been there the day before as well — smiled when she saw Dean. She put the baby’s chart back on it’s hook and leaned down to whisper, “Lookie here, Zara, it looks like your poppa has come to see you. Best be good for him.”

The woman had an accent that Dean didn’t recognize, but there was no denying the name that she used. He frowned, because most of his sleepless night before had been spent trying to think of names. It wasn’t like Castiel and the queen got a say, when they weren’t there. 

“What did you call her?” he asked, more curious than upset.

“Oh.” The nurse smiled, “I may have heard you yesterday, calling her princess. In my home country, Zara means princess. I just… it’s hard to work with all of the little ones every day, without having a name for them.”

 _Zara._ Dean smiled, reaching in to run his finger over his daughter’s delicate skin. “I love it. Can you change her name card?”

“Gladly, dear.”

* * *

Dean spent most of Zara’s second day of life sitting beside her in the NICU, leaving only when it was absolutely necessary to eat, pee, and change his bandages. Things were looking up, and the doctors seemed mostly hopeful throughout the day, that despite her small size and heart issues, she would pull through.

Unfortunately, right around the time that Dean got back from dinner, Zara’s breathing began to struggle — even with the help of the breathing tubes and machines.

Yoli, the nurse who had essentially named Zara, pulled Dean’s wheelchair away and steered him towards a side room, where he could be close by but not in the way. “Come on, dear, let’s let them work.”

What seemed like a lifetime passed, before finally Zara’s machines stopped screaming and her main doctor walked over to where Dean sat. It was easy to see by the look on his face, that he didn’t have good news.

“Her lungs are having trouble keeping up. They’re underdeveloped and she’s going to require another surgery… maybe two.”

The tears were starting to brim again, but Dean ignored them. “She barely survived the first surgery. Everything was going so well… I don’t understand!”

“Unfortunately this happens with babies her size. She was meant to have almost three more months to develop in the womb, and we can’t recreate the development.” The doctor knelt down so that he was looking eye-to-eye with Dean. “The first surgery was a lot, and I’m not going to sugar coat it, Mr. Winchester… this one will be harder. The odds are about fifty-fifty on a good day, and she’ll be in a lot of pain. Right now, Zara is alive thanks to life support, but I think you and your alpha need to talk and make sure that this surgery is the route you want to take. If she survives, we could be facing another, equally painful, hurdle tomorrow…”

* * *

Dean didn’t speak to Jimmy, and thankfully Jimmy had accepted that his role there was essentially to sign papers and play pretend… but all major decision making would be on Dean’s shoulders.

The next morning, Dean had never felt pain as strong as he did when he told the doctor’s his decision. He couldn’t sit back and watch his daughter go through a lifetime of pain in such a short period of time. She had struggled just to survive the night, and it wasn’t fair to her to keep going just so Dean would be spared the emotional pain of losing her.

Yoli wrapped him in a tight hug, before showing him into a room that was separated from the rest of the NICU. Jimmy had offered to be there, but Dean had refused… he wanted to be alone.

A few minutes later, Yoli rolled in a hospital bassinet with Zara’s tiny body in the middle. The tubes and wires had all been removed, and Zara was breathing on her own for the first time… a feat that the doctor’s had warned him wouldn’t last. 

Dean followed the instructions on how to place his arms, and stopped holding in his tears as his precious princess was laid there against him. 

“You stay here as long as you need, darling. Just push the call button when you’re ready.”

He sat there, losing track of time as he rocked Zara gently. When an hour had passed and her tiny body took it’s last shuddering breath, Dean choked on a sob.

“Goodbye, princess,” he whispered through the tears.

* * *

It was traditional, when one of the royal family died, for the country to spend a few days in mourning. Ironically, when the first princess died… the next day was sunny for the first time in weeks, and the country continued on like nothing had changed.

Because for them, nothing _had_ changed.

For Dean, though, everything was different. Bleak and colored gray.

The royal family had a special section at the cemetary on the hill… Zara had a box filled with ashes next to Dean’s bed.

He wanted to be angry at the injustice of it all, but had a hard time finding the energy. He didn’t know where to go from that moment. Was he supposed to show back up at the castle? How could he? What would the king and queen say?

One thing was for certain… if his only option at the moment was staying there with Jimmy, he was going to need something to do with his time during the day, or he was going to go stir crazy. A week after he got out of the hospital, he went for a walk after Jimmy left for work and found himself keeping an eye out for places looking to hire workers close to Jimmy’s apartment. He stumbled upon a small cafe looking for cooks ( _”We can’t pay you much, but you get a free meal with your shift and the hours are flexible…”_ ). His experience with cooking was definitely not on a professional level, but the owner Mavis seemed genuine and her pies looked delicious.

Plus, she hired him on the spot without much headache.

When he told Jimmy that evening, the other man didn’t seem to fond of the idea, but also conceded that Dean was definitely going to need something to keep him busy… and he couldn’t go back to the castle at that point.

Cooking patty melts and deep frying french fries was definitely a long way off from working on the royal fleet of cars, but it kept his mind occupied enough to make living bearable. As the time passed, and he settled into some new, broken-on-the-edges, version of himself, Dean found that he didn’t even really miss the castle. Especially not after he started his new suppressant prescription and suddenly his hormones began to even out.

He was on his way back to Jimmy’s after work one night, a pocket full of cash from his last paycheck, when he spotted a tattoo parlor with blazing neon lights tucked halfway down a side street. He hadn’t ever really noticed the place before, but he found himself changing directions and heading that way without much thought.

The place was empty, but clean, and the tattoo artist working — a sweet blonde beta named Jess — came up with a simple (and perfect) design when he gave her his idea.

A couple hours later he had a bandage on his chest covering his new tattoo. Beneath the bandage was a gold and diamond tiara with the name Zara weaved through it.

The perfect crown for his princess… placed right beside his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the death of a newborn (premature) baby.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple things: I'm finished with one big bang (it posts Oct 14th) and about half done with my DCBB (which posts Nov 21st), so we will get back to regularly scheduled broadcasting VERY soon.
> 
> Second, I've cut the number of expect chapters in half. This *might* change to more (it's hard to imagine being done in 7 chaps), but here is the thing: I came into this story with the personal goal of writing a 100k fic, which is how I got the 40 chapter number (40 chaps at 2.5k), but I keep getting frustrated with the idea of finding 'filler' and prolonging the story. I don't like it as a writer, and I know it's frustrating as a reader. So I'd rather start resolving the story and let it play out naturally without being forced to some crazy number. It might be 50k, it might be 80k (but prob closer to 50), but we're going to start having resolution and less filler, I promise! This will also help with author motivation. :D So win/win, right?
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to help with idea bouncing for this damn thing, my door is always open.

When Castiel made it back to the castle after his run-in with Dean in the city, he was an altogether changed man. At first his spirits were finally raised and he could see clearly — like a hazy cloud had been surrounding him for months and suddenly it was gone and he could focus — but that feeling lasted for only a few short days and then he felt the depression seeping back in. Even still, he had a mission and a focus, and he was determined to solve it, so that he could give Dean and the baby a safe home to come back to. 

Since all other avenues in finding out who was behind Dean’s kidnapping had failed, he finally resorted to calling in a favor with the only person he could trust. The only person who didn’t have a personal stake in the whole mess.

Castiel ignored the questioning gazes of his assistants standing behind him, as he crossed his arms over his chest and watched patiently while the helicopter in front of him touched down. Once it had landed and the blades had stopped rotating, the side door slid open and Crowley climbed out, looking more than a little aggravated about the whole idea of traveling. Crowley brushed off his sleeves and ignored someone unloading his bags as he crossed the grass over to where Castiel stood. 

“You know,” Crowley growled, “I quite prefer it when you visit me. I’m going to have a headache for a year after that nonsense.”

“My apologies for the inconvenience. If there was any other way—”

“I suppose that’s the point in owing someone a favor.” They shook hands and Castiel quickly directed Crowley back towards the castle entrance. Before they could get inside, Crowley asked, “So what’s all this about? You weren’t particularly chatty on the phone.”

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the servants following behind, carrying Crowley’s bags. He didn’t like to be the nervous sort, but it was definitely a feeling that had settled in his bones since he spoke with Dean. “I have a spot for us to talk, and I’ll explain everything.”

They quickly made their way through the entire castle, taking the elevator up to the top floor and then a set of stairs up to the queen’s rooftop garden space. Castiel had forced himself to remain patient enough to ask Maddy if it was alright to use the space. He didn’t know of any other options that could guarantee complete privacy.

Once they were alone and the door was closed behind them, Castiel moved over to the table set up and couldn’t stop himself from bending at the waist and checking under the table for a listening device… _just in case._ Nothing, thankfully. He sat, and motioned for Crowley to do the same.

“I don’t know that I’ve seen you this worked up since your father passed.”

Understandably so. Castiel felt like his blood pressure was through the roof. “There are people throughout the castle that are conspiring against me. A few months ago, someone kidnapped Dean, one of the pregnant omegas. A week ago, I saw him at a banquet in the city… he said he was initially kept in a basement, where people were waiting to make sure the baby was mine. But then he was rescued and moved to his current location, but when I offered to bring him back, he said that people in the castle would have him killed as soon as he returned.”

Crowley frowned, but only waited a moment before asking, “How do you know any of that is true? What if he just ran, and you happened upon him by accident.”

“Because I’ve been different. My physician claimed it was something to do with soulmates — when an alpha’s pregnant omega is taken from them, the alpha has an overly aggressive rut and doesn’t return to normal until he’s back with the omega. When I saw Dean… I felt better than I had since he left, but it only lasted a few days, before suddenly I was back to aggression. I can’t stand to be around Madelyn, and even when I tried going to see Bela, the other pregnant omega, I was aggravated and tense. People can lie, yes, but the body doesn’t, and I trust what I’ve been feeling.”

“Wait,” Crowley held up a hand, “You still aren’t feeling the same amount of connection with the other omega?”

“No. If I’m being honest… I can’t stand to be around her.”

“And Dean told you they were waiting to confirm you were the father?” Castiel nodded. “I’m not a doctor, but common sense would tell me that if you were also the father of Bela’s child, you would also have a connection there. Your alpha wouldn’t allow you to be aggressive around her.”

_That_ was exactly why Castiel had brought Crowley down. With all of his senses constantly in overdrive, it was hard for him to think calmly enough and realize something was so blatantly amiss. “Someone changed out the donation when Bela got pregnant. Someone else is the father.”

“If Dean is correct, and there are forces conspiring against you, that is definitely the answer I would perceive. Someone wanted the heir to the throne to be another man’s child.”

_Shit_ , Castiel thought to himself. It went deeper than someone just wanting Dean out of the way. As best he had figured in his clouded mind, someone had wanted Bela to be the only available omega — maybe she had wanted a more powerful role in the kingdom, or more money. But if someone had flatout switched who the father was… then someone was coming for his _crown._ “Fuck. I’m fucked.”

“Not necessarily. We might not know all of the players involved, but we know of at least one of them. Since I assume you brought me here to investigate things, I’ll start with questioning Bela. Then the doctors involved with the implantation.” Crowley sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “What I don’t understand is… even if the endgame is going after you and the crown, who would want to put in so much effort for a result that won’t transpire for another eighteen years? It isn’t like the baby will be born and automatically king.”

“Right. Seems like a stupid plan.”

“Unless the child’s father was someone who could usurp your position. Someone currently eligible for the throne, who could produce an heir sooner.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and felt himself getting angry, “No one is eligible! That was the point of this whole damn mess!”

* * *

While Crowley secretly sought out his answers — using a room on the grounds that had been secured and swept for listening devices, Castiel tried to go back to his day-to-day activities. Unfortunately, life wasn’t that easy. 

He’d lost track of how many days it had been since he’d seen Dean in the city, but he woke up one morning screaming out in pain, and subsequently leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. His alpha raged like a fire, fighting to jump from his skin and causing his whole body to thrash in pain. One of the servants must have found him, because not long after he sneered and growled as the smell of another alpha entered the room. When he blinked his eyes open, Sam was standing, hands out in a placating manner, with Crowley and Madelyn standing behind him at the edge of the room.

“My King,” Sam spoke, voice calm, “you are ill. I need to do an examination.”

Castiel surged up off the bed in anger, as far as his weak body would allow him to. “Touch me and die!”

“Dr. Winchester,” Crowley said, “I believe we might need restraints. His alpha is in complete control.”

“I can’t—” Sam looked pained. “I can’t _restrain_ the King!”

“You can. You must. You will. The servants and I will help.”

* * *

“I’m going to lose my head if security comes in here,” Sam growled.

Madelyn placed a calm hand on his arm. “Sam, it had to be done.”

Probably, yes, but that didn’t make Sam feel any better about what exactly ‘had’ to be done. He stood on the side of the king’s bed and stared down at the man. It had taken restraints — torn pieces of bed cloth holding down each of the king’s limbs — _and_ a high dosage of sleeping tonic to finally knock the king out. Crowley, a man who was apparently the king’s most trusted friend, had definitely been right when he said that the king’s alpha was in charge. It was a medical marvel that Sam had read about in books, but had never seen in person, because of how rare it was.

“Do we know what caused this?” Crowley finally asked, from his spot against the opposite wall, where he was sipping a glass of amber liquid. “Doctor?”

“Death.”

The Queen turned in her seat to look at Sam. She was holding a silent vigil next to her husband, calmly holding his hand now that he was asleep (before, the alpha probably would have broken her hand if she had touched him). “Death? Sam?”

“In times of great trauma and pain, the alpha can take over, much like in the days of our ancestors when we were full shifters and could live in either skin. Back then, if a person wasn’t capable of handling their emotions or the trauma, they would shift into their wolfskin for months on end, refusing to shift back or speak to their kin. Essentially feral. The king’s alpha has taken over, and the only trauma that I can see causing this much of a reaction, would be some kind of death or tremendous pain.”

Crowley made a ‘hmm’ sound around his cup, causing both Sam and the queen to look over at him. “Something has happened to Dean.”

“Dean?” The queen and Sam both spoke at the same time, but it was Sam that continued. “Why Dean?”

“The King had a connection to him, because of the baby. Who else, other than the occupants of this room, would cause the King so much distress? He’s been different since Dean was kidnapped, right?”

_”Fuck,”_ Sam whispered.

“I need to continue what the King brought me here for. I would recommend keeping him sedated and _not_ telling folks about it. I’ll work as quickly as possible to find us answers, and we’ll go from there.”

* * *

Crowley had spent his first week researching the players involved in the whole ‘conspiracy’... but he was starting to see that if the King’s condition was worsening, his time frame was going to become a lot more constrained. So he had a quick chat with the assistant that Castiel had assigned to help him when needed, and requested that Bela be brought to the rooftop garden. 

He was there waiting, watching from a spot leaning against a cherry tree trunk, when Bela stepped out onto the roof and closed the door behind her. She looked confused, hand laying on her extended belly as she walked towards the center courtyard and table. “My Queen?” she called.

Crowley circled around through the trees, securing the lock on the door before stepping out behind Bela. She spun, forehead creased in confusion and worry. “Who are you?”

“Crowley. A friend of your King’s.” She startled a bit at his accent — most people did. He smirked, motioning to the table and chairs. “Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Talbot? We need to have a discussion.”

“I was told I was coming here to meet with the queen—”

“I’m afraid that was a ruse. I didn’t want you running to any of your friends when you realized you’d been found out.” He moved past her, taking a seat in the far chair so he could keep an eye on both Bela and the door. “ _Sit._ I insist.”

She moved slowly, unsurely. “Found out?” she asked, finally sitting down. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play stupid. We both know that you aren’t stupid. So why don’t you make this easy on yourself and tell me who the real father of that child is?”

Bela blanched, mouth dropping open, “Excuse me?”

“It isn’t the king’s child… that much is obvious. What I can’t figure out is how the conspirators in this whole mess thought their plan would actually play out properly. Because the king can’t stand to be around you, a fact that wouldn’t be true if you were carrying his child. His alpha would have him fawning over you at this point. So, Miss Talbot, stop bullshitting me and tell me who you’re working with.”

She continued to try and fumble for a moment, but Crowley’s ‘no bullshit’ look obviously scared her the way it did most. “I don’t know who is in charge! They just offered me money to keep my voice shut once Dean was gone!”

“Why don’t you slow down and explain it to me from the beginning?”

“I didn’t know anything was going on until after Dean disappeared. Someone showed up at my room with a letter. It said that I needed to do all that I could to make sure the baby remained in good health. Something about them having great plans for the baby.”

“I find it hard to believe,” Crowley said, “That you know nothing else. Who is the father, Bela?”

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I spoke with the doctors involved with the insemination procedure…”

“Sam Winchester?”

“No. From what I’ve found, he isn’t involved. Apparently he values his relationship with the king too much. But the others involved, doing the actual procedure, switched out the donor semen. With someone who would be biologically close enough to the king to keep eyebrows from raising.”

_”Who?”_ he growled, slamming a fist on the table.

Bela jumped. “I don’t know for sure! But the maids talk, okay? They talk a lot… and the old king wasn’t exactly a saint, you know? A lot of the older maids swear that the old king had another child. A son. Another son.”

It was enough, so Crowley had her provide a list of names of people she had spoken with, before letting her leave to return to her apartment. To be quite frank, he wasn’t surprised at all that the old king could have possibly had another child. Hell… there could be multiple children running around the country! When Crowley had first arrived at the castle, he remembered many whispers about the maids and servants that would sneak into the king’s room at night to service him.

Unfortunately, it didn’t really leave him closer to finding Dean Winchester.


End file.
